When the Long Trick's Over
by RaisingAmara
Summary: Dean needs surgery, Dad's gone AWOL, and the hospital won't commit without proof that Sam has a job, so the 16-year-old does the only thing he can - signs on as help for the Alaskan fishing vessel, Brown-Eyed Girl. It's greenhorn against the Bering Sea in an endurance race to save one brother's life.
1. Chapter 1

_Sam willed his voice not to shake as he set the marine radio to channel 16. He took a deep breath and keyed the mic the way JayJay had shown him. "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. Mayday, mayday, mayday. Over."_

 _Silence._

 _He tried again, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. In need of immediate assistance. We have six people on board. Two are injured, including the captain. We are taking on water. We are a 92-foot trap setter, White hull, red house. Need immediate assistance. Mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Over."_

 _Sam listened. If the Coast Guard heard him, his radio wasn't picking up the response._

 _Sam steadied himself in the doorway as the boat listed hard to starboard. In the darkness, he felt the unforgiving sea reach up and nearly brush his shoulders before the ship righted itself. On deck, he heard Lars, Whitey and Rog fighting with the lifeboat, but 60 mph winds and 29-foot waves made the task nearly impossible._

" _Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the crabbing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. We are sinking. Repeat. We are sinking. We are a 92-foot trap setter with a white hull and red house. We have two injured crew and are sinking. Request immediate assistance from any vessels in the area. Six people on board. Over."_

" _Sammy!" Mike tossed a survival suit at him, plucking the portable VHF from the charger. "We'll have to try the portable. Get this on, and get out here! There's no more time!"_


	2. Hired On

F/V _Brown-Eyed Girl_ bobbed patiently in port, waiting for the Alaskan king crabbing season to begin. She measured 92 feet from bow to stern - small for a crabbing vessel - but she was scrappy. She could safely hold 100 pots at 700 lbs apiece, and she'd brought her skipper and his small five-man crew safely home from the unforgiving Bering Sea more times than any of them could count. Built in 1968 at the Marco Shipyard in Seattle, _Brown-Eyed Girl_ was the perfect embodiment of her captain - JayJay Yazzie. JayJay was the youngest of all the crab boat captains that sailed out of Dutch Harbor - the youngest skipper piloting the smallest boat - but the combination was legend up and down the coast. JayJay and his Girl routinely brought in big, profitable loads of king crab year after year. Rumor attributed it to his gentle nature and to the fair treatment of his crew. JayJay's crew had been in it together since their first voyage seven years back. There was no turnover rate aboard the _Brown-Eyed Girl_ , largely because there was no need to hire on new greenhorns every season. If you were fortunate enough to land a job crabbing with JayJay Yazzie, you hung onto it.

That had all changed at the end of last season, however, when deckhand Lash Billings had retired, leaving a hole in the closely knit crew that left JayJay apprehensive. He was reluctant to hire on a greenhorn, preferring instead to try and recruit someone with experience from another crew.

But when the spindly kid with the rebellious hair had politely asked permission to come aboard, gripping the crew-wanted sign that JayJay had tacked up himself inside the port's small coffeehouse, the young skipper was intrigued. The brutal winds that blew in off the water and buffeted the boy seemed to have no impact. He stood there stoic and simply took what the sea dished out, wet tendrils of long hair flogging his dripping face. The kid didn't have a lick of experience pulling in pots, but he had an air of determination about him that JayJay instantly liked. He hired the boy on the spot, sure that he was lying about his age, ID be damned. Certainly it was fake. But JayJay was determined to see what the kid could do. He was humble. He was scrappy - just like Jayjay had been at that age - and he was in prime physical condition.

He was also flat broke, which meant JayJay would be footing the cost for his fishing license and equipment, but somehow, the skipper didn't mind. He hired the boy on as a greenhorn with a minimum salary of $6,000 for a month's work to chop bait, load traps and de-ice the railings. If JayJay's Girl came through like she always did, the rookie would take home a bigger chunk of the profits, but the young captain kept that bit of information to himself.

The captain and the greenhorn signed a contract and shook hands on the deal, and the boy promised to report back late the next night. It was the beginning of October - the start of king crabbing season off the coast of Alaska - and _Brown-Eyed Girl_ would leave port promptly at 9:00 am two days hence.

Sam Winchester, aka Hetfield, would be on board. He had to be. His brother's life depended on it.

 _ **Author's Note:** Special thanks to JaniceC678 for taking the time to help me improve this fic :) And thanks to everyone who's reading and/or reviewing!_


	3. It's Sedna

"I think it's Sedna." Sam explained, eyes riveted to his laptop. "It all makes sense, Dean. Seven fishermen attacked at sea, seemingly out of nowhere - their thumbs and fingers severed and lost. Has to be Sedna."

Dean rolled his eyes, the breakfast burger in his hand taking precedence over his brother's words. He took a huge bite and groaned with pleasure. "Mmmf haf to be morf speficic." he mumbled, lips going to his straw.

Sam looked up, frowning. "You're lucky I speak glutton. And I am being specific, jerk. Sedna is the Goddess of the Sea in Inuit mythology. There are all sorts of legends about her, but they all have one thing in common - she always loses the fingers on her hands. Some say her father cut them off. Some say they froze off. But seeing as how all the fisherman who were attacked were fathers of teenage girls, I'm going with the insane dad theory."

"Nice. Why are we talking about this again?" Dean traded his soda for the big gulp coffee that sat next to it.

"Because it's a case, Dean! Didn't you just tell me yesterday you were getting bored waiting for Dad? Well guess what? Now he needs us."

Dean shook his head, wincing slightly, "He said if we wanted to come up, Sam. IF. He didn't specifically say he needed us. You know I'd be there in a heartbeat if he honestly needed our help, but it sounded to me like he was thinking of it as some kind of vacation." The older boy snorted. "And why am I surprised? Alaska in the fall sounds just like the type of vacation Dad would plan." He rubbed his temples.

"Dean, it's like 60 to 80 degrees in Alaska this time of year! It's the perfect time to go."

"Yeah? And how we gonna get there? You think about that?"

Sam chuckled, "Well, unless you plan to drive through Canada, Dean. I guess we're flying. Come on! Dad said he needs us, and his friend Jonesy is footing the bill for our tickets. We'll just have Bobby drive us to the airport and leave the Impala with him."

Dean's eyes widened. "Yeah. Good talk." He stood up and balled up his burger wrapper. He aimed at Bobby's trash can and missed, wincing. "I think that last argument with Dad sent you over the top, little brother. Leave the Impala? Are you cra-zy?" He asked, emphasizing each syllable. He ruffled the kid's hair just to annoy him as he headed toward the front porch, coffee in hand.

Sam sighed. "You're a dick, Dean. You know that right?" He fumbled with his bangs, putting them back where they belonged.

Dean grinned where Sam couldn't see him. "And I don't even have to try, Sammy."

Bobby looked up as Dean stepped outside. He wiped his hands on an oil rag and stood glaring down at the stubborn old truck that refused to start.

"You idjits fightin' again?" he asked absently, tugging on a fan belt.

"Alaska, Bobby. Can you see me in Alaska? You know how many clothes the women wear in cold weather climates?" He shuddered, sitting down on the rickety steps. He studied his old uncle as the man plunged his arms elbow-deep into the bowels of the engine well. "You need help there?"

But Bobby sighed in defeat, "Think this old truck is beyond help, boy - yours or mine. Damn. I loved this old rattle-trap too." He slapped the hood down and stood leaning against the grill. He reached for his beer that was warming on the porch railing.

"Sam figure it all out?"

"Of course."

Bobby grinned, "Smart kid."

"Geek boy, you mean?"

"I heard that," Sam called from the doorway, phone in hand. He went back to his conversation. "That's what I have, Dad. Did you wanna talk to Dean?" He nodded and handed the phone to the older boy.

"Hey Dad."

Dean frowned. "Yeah."

Sam settled down beside his brother on the steps, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I know. Yeah. We will." Dean glanced up at Bobby. "Sure, he's right here." He handed the phone to the older hunter.

"John? What's up?"

Bobby nodded. "You know I will. Yep. Is it safe, you think?"

The boys nodded as the older man's face reflected his emotions. "Well, Sam's sixteen, you know, John. He's a kid. And this sounds pretty dangerous."

Bobby's expression went dark. "Whatever I have to. You should know that. These boys come first." He turned away and stalked across the yard, but his words carried back to the boys. "I don't give a rat's ass, you idjit. You get these boys killed, I'll off you myself. Yeah? Well, I'll leave that up to Dean. It's his choice. And if Sam wants to stay behind, that's fine by me." He turned and studied the boys sitting on his steps. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's see you back it up, Winchester." He growled, handing the phone back to Dean.

Dean took it, eyes wide. "Yeah, Dad? Yeah. Okay. When?" He glanced at Sam. "Uh hunh. Okay. Yeah, we'll see you soon. Hey Dad? Be careful, okay? Wait for us?" He disconnected the call and turned to his brother, sighing.

"So, let's go goddess hunting in Alaska."


	4. Big Brother Down

"Just so you know, I'm hitching home." Dean complained, flopping exhaustedly down on the damp bed in the musty motel room.

Sam's eyes were wide and haunted, "Not kidding. I'm coming with you. That was one terrifying flight."

"Dead, Sammy. I thought we were dead. I ain't kidding."

"It was just turbulence." Sam dropped his duffle beside the other bed and sat on the edge, facing his brother. "Could have done without the appearance of the drop-down oxygen masks though, and the hysterical woman screaming in the seat behind us."

"My chest still hurts."

Sam smiled then, "That's cause you're old. You're old and you eat your weight in grease and fat every single day."

"I'll take a heart attack over plunging to a fiery death any day."

"Keep going the way you are, and you might get your wish." Sam snickered, stopping when the pillow hit him square in the face. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Ass."

"Geek."

"Wuss."

Dean sat up. "I ain't no wuss, Sam. I'd just like to keep my ass intact, thank you very much. I'm sort of attached to it. Too attached to see it splattered and frozen all over Alaska."

Sam relented. "You try Dad yet?"

Dean sighed. "No. Not yet. Wanted to restart my heart first."

Sam grinned, pulling out his wallet. "You do Dad duty. I'll find us something to eat. Grease on a bun with a side of salt?" He asked, making for the door.

"You know it."

Sam was laughing as he slipped out the door and noted the chicken joint conspicuously located just across the road. He grinned as he pictured Dean's face when he returned with a grilled chicken salad.

His grin faded though, when he returned a good 20 minutes later to find Dean in the same position on the bed. The older boy was out cold, snoring like a lumberjack, and Sam noted his cell phone still in his far-flung hand. He frowned. Dean had napped for most of the flight, except of course, during the last ten minutes when the plane had suddenly nosedived and almost killed them both.

He shouldn't be this exhausted.

Amateur.

Sam took Dean's cell from his outstretched hand, lay down beside him, and snapped a close-up of their faces, Sam grinning and pointing to the drool. Then he exited the app, closed the phone, and placed it innocently back in his brother's hand, hiding all traces of his evil deed until some future date when Dean opened up his photo album and got a rude surprise.

And he had the nerve to call Sam princess.

"Hey, wake up." He nudged the sleeping beauty. "Food's here."

###

"So how do we kill her?" Dean asked, speaking around his bite of roast beef sandwich. It wasn't a burger, but Dean reasoned it could have been a whole lot worse. That thing that Sam was eating looked like it still had pin feathers. And he could smell the oranges through Sam's unopened salad container. The citrus scent was overpowering.

Gross.

Sam sighed, "Well, she's a deity, so who knows? You can CALM her by brushing and braiding her hair."

Dean made a face. "Thanks Not! Not in mood to romance a sea hag."

"Well, she has no fingers, so I guess a nice hair brushing probably feels pretty good. And anyway, what makes you think she was a hag? In life, she was supposed to be the loveliest in all the land."

"They're always hags, Sam. When's the last time you remember us running up against a Pam-Anderson-type monster?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue and realized Dean was right. The Winchester luck definitely ran toward hags. "Well, anyway, I think she's maiming the fishermen because she feels sorry for their daughters. According to the reports, at least two of the men lived alone - estranged from their families. I'm betting they were all in the same boat." He slapped his hand down on the table and guffawed.

"In the same boat! Ha!"

Even Dean had to snort at that, it was just that bad. "Step away from the motion sickness pills, Sammy. I think you've had enough."

Sam popped the top on his take-out salad, and Dean winced.

"Dammit, Sam. How can you eat that stuff? Go easy on the freaking mandarin oranges already."

Sam stared down at his food. "There's no oranges in this, dude. You're crazy."

"There is. I've been smelling them for the last ten minutes. They're giving me a headache."

Sam dug around with his fork. "Nope. No oranges. You're smelling things, Dean." He looked up. "Probably because you're old."

Dean glared, "This old man is still spry enough to kick your scrawny ass." He rubbed at his temples.

"Spry, Dean? I'm pretty sure you using the word "spry" just proved my point." He grinned, taking a big bite of salad.

Dean watched for a split second longer, then he was diving for the head and puking up roast beef and coffee.

Sam was just a few seconds behind him. "What the hell, Dean? You okay, man?"

Dean groaned, heaving again. "Need something for this headache, Sammy. We got anything?"

Sam nodded and rushed to his duffle. He pulled out his prescription-strength Imitrex and fished one out. He crouched beside Dean and handed it to him with what was left of his soda. "Here, this will work."

Dean took the pill and stumbled back to his bed, falling limp across it. "Get rid of the oranges, please, Sammy? They're making me sick."

Sam nodded and sniffed. He couldn't smell a thing. But he closed the salad container back up and shoved it back into the take-out bag. Maybe the smell was clinging to the bag, and Sam had gotten used to it because he'd been inside the restaurant. He gathered all the food and drinks and napkins and shoved them in beside. Then he took the bag outside and tossed it in the trash. He came back and washed his hands with the motel soap. He sniffed again.

Still nothing. But that should take care of the problem, surely. He stood over his brother, looking down. "Want me to help you get undressed and under the covers?" He asked, concerned.

But Dean just shook his head once and groaned at the resulting pain. "Just let me die here quietly, bro."

Sam chuckled. "You're not dying, Dean. But I hope you're not starting to get my migraines. They really suck."

Dean groaned again.

Sam pulled the blanket off his own bed and arranged it carefully over his brother. Then he snicked off the overhead light and closed the curtain, enveloping the room in darkness. "That should help. I'll be right over here if you need anything, okay?"

"M'kay." Dean slurred sleepily, the pill already taking effect.

Sam smiled, thinking the Imitrex had solved the problem. But two hours later, he was startled out of his research by the sound of his brother's bed shaking. He glanced up and froze, horrified by the sight of Dean locked in a brutal seizure that pulled his lips back in a grotesque grimace and battered his body relentlessly. Sam held on to him for seven minutes before giving in and calling the ambulance.

Dean was still seizing when they arrived.


	5. Cold Heart

"Your brother has a low-grade astrocytoma. That's a tumor in the supportive tissue of his brain." The doctor explained.

Sam went pale at the word "tumor."

"The good news is, it's a juvenile form called Pylocytic Astrocytoma, and it's almost always benign. It's slow-growing and the least invasive kind of tumor, but it still has to come out. This means surgery."

Sam swallowed, nodding. "Okay. When?"

"Well, as soon as possible. The fact that he's reached the seizure stage tells me time is running out. And while this type of tumor usually isn't cancerous, it can still cause its fair share of damage just by exerting pressure on parts of the brain where there shouldn't be pressure."

Sam was still trying to process all of the information. "So, if you operate, he'll be cured?"

"Well, there are never any guarantees, but surgery should do the trick. Tumors like this are typically relatively easy to remove."

"Are there risks?"

The doctor nodded, "Always. But in Dean's case, he has no choice. The tumor has to come out or he faces irreparable brain damage which will only get worse as the tumor grows."

"And surgery is the only treatment?"

"For Dean? Yes."

Sam felt sick. He shouldn't be the one having to make this decision, but Dean was unconscious, and neither Dad or Jonesy had answered any of his twenty calls. He took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. "Fine then. Do what you have to do. Do I need to sign anything?"

The doctor studied him, "Are you your brother's only kin?"

"No. Our dad is here too, but he's unreachable. He's working. I'm eighteen," Sam lied, "I can give consent."

"You're eighteen?"

Sam nodded.

"You're a young-looking eighteen, Sam. You'll need to produce ID."

"That's not a problem." Sam replied, thinking of the fake one in his wallet.

The doctor smiled, "Okay then."

"Will … will he wake up before? I mean, can I talk to him before?"

"We'd rather not. He's in a lot of pain. If we bring him around, it's going to be excruciating for him. It's best to just go in and get it done."

Sam nodded, still too shell shocked to argue.

"I'm sending you down to admissions, Sam. They'll have the paperwork you need. Okay?"

"Yeah." Sam sat dazed.

The doctor smiled, feeling sorry for the kid in front of him. It sure seemed like his brother was the only thing he had. His clothes were battered, his shoes completely worn out. He was long past needing a haircut. But the boy was respectful and polite and seemed sharp as a tack. The doctor hoped it went well for him and his brother. He really did. But he shuddered when he thought about the obstacle Sam was about to face when the financial office learned that Dean was uninsured.

###

"Well, we can't do it." The matronly woman explained coldly.

"Can't do what?" Sam asked, confused.

"We can't operate on your brother. He has no insurance. There's no guarantee of payment here."

Sam blinked. "But he'll die."

"Not right away." She said. "Your brother's condition is critical but not immediately life-threatening. You could still fly him home to …" She ruffled through his papers, " … to Sioux Falls and have the surgery performed there."

"But the doctor said we can't wake him. He'll be in terrible pain. He can't fly!" Sam remembered the horrifying flight up.

But she shook her head. "We're not a charitable organization here. We need money to pay our doctors and nurses, to buy equipment to help our paying patients. We can't help your brother here."

Sam gaped at her. "You can't just turn him away. He needs this surgery!"

"We need a guarantee of payment."

"Well, let's make some sort of arrangement then. What do you need up front?"

She did some quick figuring on her calculator. "We need a commitment of at least $5000 to okay your brother's procedure. The rest we can bill. But we need that up front, or he'll be discharged to County."

"Will they operate on him at County?"

She shook her head. "That's just until you get him on a plane."

Sam rubbed his hand over his eyes in frustration, "Please, listen to me. As soon as I can reach my father, he'll clear all this up. He has credit cards. He can charge this."

"As soon as your father presents himself here and pays the $5,000, we'll proceed."

"But he's out of reach temporarily!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Sam stared. "You'll let my brother die for $5,000?"

"I'm sorry. Our rules are very clear. There's nothing more I can do."

Sam refused to hear. "What if I get a job locally? If I can bring you in proof of a steady paycheck? Will you take that until my father gets here?"

She hesitated. "That's really outside of the rules."

"Please? Please help him?" Sam was unused to begging, but for Dean's life, he'd get down and kiss the sensible shoes of this cold-hearted bitch.

She sighed, relenting. "Fine. You bring us proof of guaranteed income, and we'll push this through. But that's just until your father arrives. Once he's here, he'll have to work something else out. Do I make myself clear?"

Sam nodded, already rising. He had a job to find.


	6. Letter to Dean

"Hey Bobby." Sam's voice was subdued. The old hunter knew immediately that something was up.

"Hey yourself, Sam. How goes the hunt for the sea hag?"

"Kinda got postponed. Dean … he's …" Sam swallowed, trying to steady his voice.

Well balls. Something had happened to his boys.

"What's going on, Sam? What about Dean?"

Sam took a deep breath, "He's real sick, Bobby. He just collapsed right after we got here. He needs surgery. They say it's … it's a brain tumor. But they say it's benign. He's going to be okay."

Bobby sucked in a breath. "What in Sam Hill?"

"I … Dad's not reachable. I'm here alone, just me and Dean, and he's out of it. They scheduled the surgery for Wednesday."

"You're all by yourself, boy?"

"Yeah. I can't get hold of Dad or Jonesy. Both phones go to voicemail."

"Balls! I'll be on the next flight up. Where are you?"

Sam shared the name of the hospital. "Hey, Bobby, there's something else."

"What is it, son?" The old hunter was already scanning his living room, trying to remember where he'd put the one piece of battered luggage he'd bought back in '75.

"I … uh … I might not be here when you get here. I had to get a job. Gonna be working a lot of hours. The hospital - they wanted a deposit before they'd agree to help him."

Bobby froze. "How much?"

"It's okay. I got it covered. I just wanted to let you know, I might not be here when you get here."

"Sam, I can help …"

But Sam cut him off. "It's okay, Bobby. I took care of it." Sam thought about how hard the older man had struggled just to hold onto his salvage yard last year. He'd had the bank on his tail ever since Sam had known him. Saving people and hunting things didn't exactly pay the bills. "But if you could come and be with Dean when I … I have to work … that would be awesome. I'm afraid he'll come out of it when I'm not here. I don't want him to wake up alone and hurting is all."

"Of course I will, boy. You know that. I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight out, okay? And Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe, son. Your brother's going to be fine."

###

Sam exhaled as he placed the phone back on the bed tray. He glanced at his brother.

Dean looked so tired. He had huge bags under his eyes, and Sam consoled himself with the thought that the older boy was finally getting caught up on about four years of missed sleep. But at least he looked peaceful. At least he wasn't hurting.

Sam smiled. As worried as he was about his own immediate future, somehow, he felt at ease about his brother's. Sam really like the doctor who would be doing the surgery. And the old bat down in financial had accepted the copy of Sam's contract to board _Brown-Eyed Girl_ without question. They'd scheduled Dean's surgery immediately.

Dean would be fine. Bobby would be here when he woke up and hopefully Dad too. And even if Sam never … never made it back, Dean would be okay. He'd have family.

Sam picked up the pencil he'd been avoiding and set it to paper, having no idea what to say in this letter - the hardest one he'd ever had to write.

 _Dean,_

 _If you're reading this, then everything went well, and you're through your surgery. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, but know that I'm thinking about you every single hour. I never was able to reach Dad or Jonesy, but I got through to Bobby, and he came through like he always has. So now you have family with you while you recover._

 _I'll be back as soon as I can, though it may not be before you're discharged. There was a glitch with the insurance, and the hospital needed a down payment before they'd do your surgery, so I got a job. I signed on for a four-week run with a local crab boat, the Brown-Eyed Girl._

 _I hate that fact that I can't be there with you right now when you need me the most, but I couldn't think of any other way to get you the help you needed. Stay away from the lady in financial if you can help it, she's worse than any sea hag. I wouldn't try braiding her hair. (You can laugh, Dean. That was a joke)_

 _But your surgeon is a great guy. He's done these types of surgeries lots of times, and he assures me that you're going to be fine._

 _So I'll have my cell phone with me, but I don't know how that will work once we're in the middle of the Bering Sea. I don't know if I'll be able to charge it or if it will pick up a signal even. If I can, I'll call you ship-to-shore, but again, I'm not sure how that all works or if the captain will let me. The captain is just a young guy, but he has a real good reputation, Dean. He always brings his crew and his boat home safe. His name is JayJay Yazzie, and he's like a local legend or something. I like him a lot. He seems like a real nice guy._

 _So concentrate on getting better, jerk. And don't you dare spend all your recovery time worrying about me. I'll be back at the dock in a month with enough money to make the down payment and all the king crab legs you, me and Bobby can eat._

 _Love you, man._

 _Take care,_

 _Sam_


	7. Bobby's Surprise

Bobby pushed the door open and stepped quietly into the room, his eyes immediately going to the boy in the bed.

He looked amazing.

Bobby had been expecting bandages and black eyes, but instead, it just looked as though Dean was sleeping peacefully. There wasn't a visible mark on him. If it wasn't for the tube trailing out of his mouth, there'd be no indication that anything was ever wrong.

The nurse looked up and smiled. "You must be the uncle. That was perfect timing. They just wheeled him back up from surgery."

Bobby nodded, approaching with his hat in his hand. "How's he doin'?"

She smiled again, as she positioned the pillows to make Dean more comfortable. "He's doing amazingly well, actually. I can't really give you specifics, but I'll ask the surgeon to stop by before he leaves to fill you in."

"When will he wake up?"

"He's on some pretty strong pain relievers right now. So I wouldn't expect too much until late tomorrow at the earliest."

"He's going to be okay though, right?"

She nodded. "It looks real good. He's young and strong."

Bobby moved to the bed and stood looking down at the boy he thought of as his own. "Has his brother been by?"

"You mean Sam." She grinned, saying it as a statement and not a question. "Up until last night, we couldn't peel him away. He sure thinks the world of his brother, doesn't he? It makes you feel good to see such a young kid that concerned about a family member. He hardly ever left the room."

"That'd be him. So you haven't seen him since last night?"

She shook her head, gathering her tray together. "Said he had to go to work but that you'd be arriving at any time. I think he left you a note though, over there." She nodded to two envelopes positioned in full view in the window well.

Bobby frowned. That was odd, why the Sam Hill would he leave a note. He knew they would be seeing each other sooner than later. But the old hunter sighed and picked up the envelope with his name on it. Ignoring the one addressed to Dean. His mouth fell open as he read:

 _Bobby,_

 _I'm sorry I couldn't be here and that you have to pick up Dad's slack yet again. Thanks for dropping everything and just coming, Bobby. I don't know what I'd have done if I hadn't been able to get hold of you either._

 _By the time you read this, I'll be at my job as a greenhorn on a local crab boat. It's a four-week boat is called Brown-Eyed Girl, and the captain is Jayjay Yazzi. We departed from Dutch Harbor early this morning, heading out into the Bering Sea._

 _It was the only thing I could find in a pinch, and it pays enough to make the finance woman happy so that they would schedule Dean's surgery. Until I brought her a copy of the contract, she refused to let the hospital treat him. She was going to make them wake him up and make him fly back to Sioux Falls in terrible pain. I'm pretty sure there's a special place in Hell for her._

 _Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. The part that I hate is being away from Dean when he needs me so much. And I hate that you got pulled into the Winchester drama yet again. I don't know why you put up with us really._

 _I never was able to reach Dad or Jonesy. I'd worry about them, but after everything that Dean is going through, I don't have the time or the energy to worry about Dad and his baggage._

 _I'll call as soon as I'm able. If you don't hear from me for awhile, don't worry. The captain is a real nice guy, and so is his crew. Nothing bad is going to happen to me._

 _I wrote Dean a note too - one without all the drama. Please see that he gets it when he's able, and let him know that there's no way I wouldn't be there with him through this unless there was no other way._

 _Take care, Bobby. I love you, man. And thanks for being there for Dean, for both of us._

 _Sam_

"Balls!" Bobby swore, crumpling the letter into a tight ball. The nurse had left minutes ago, and only Dean was there when the older man's eyes welled up. "John, you bastard. You damn well better be dead." He fished out his phone and dialed Sam's number, but the call went to voicemail. He left his message.

" _Sam, Dean is gonna kick your ass when he wakes up. And when he's done, I get my turn. I know you had to do something fast, but a freakin' crab boat in the middle of the freakin' Bering Sea ain't it, ya idjit. Take care of yourself, boy, and when I see that useless father of yours, I'm kickin' his ass twice._

 _I ain't kiddin', Sam. Crabbing ain't a life for just anyone. You watch your six, boy. Cause if your butt ain't back on that dock with the first delivery, Dean'll flip out. You know your brother, and you know I ain't lying, so get yourself back here, kid. Safely."_

The older man sighed as he settled himself into the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. His eyes drew to the window where the sun was just setting in a blaze of fire. "Red sky at night …" He murmured, twisting his already abused hat into oblivion.


	8. Meeting the Crew

Sam held onto his duffle with both hands to keep it from buffeting him right off the end of the dock. The winds rolling across Dutch Harbor were brutal. And while it was a nice, comfortable 65 degrees everywhere else, here on the docks it felt like Alaska - every frigid degree of it.

Sam wondered briefly if he'd have the stamina to do this thing that seemed like a worse idea by the minute. He was already freezing. The walk from the hospital to the docks was significant. And all he had was his threadbare windbreaker. He was too flat broke to even think about a taxi, and he hadn't eaten in days. He was starting out on this adventure cold, tired and starving. Sam sure hoped it didn't go downhill from here.

Then he remembered the look of fear on Dean's face when he was being wracked by the seizure, and Sam remembered why he was here.

He could do this. He could do it for Dean.

Even after dark, there was a lot of activity on the docks. Sam steeled himself against the stares of the seasoned sailors and made his way to the coffee shop where he'd agreed to meet JayJay and the rest of the crew. The captain hadn't exactly spelled it out for Sam, but the boy had a suspicion that if the crew didn't warm to him, he might find himself left behind when the boat departed.

He had to try to fit in.

At least he didn't have to act like he knew what he was doing. JayJay already knew he'd never set foot on a boat before. But Sam was confident he could do whatever jobs they assigned him, which he assumed would mostly be bait boy. He'd cut enough heads off of vampires in his day to ever be squeamish gutting a fish.

He could do this.

He took a deep breath and tugged the door open, stepping into the instant warmth, welcome and wondrous smells of the coffee shop.

###

JayJay glanced up when the little bell above the door jangled, and he frowned. He was pretty sure that was his new greenhorn standing there soaked and frozen in only a light jacket. As the boy stopped to swipe away the wet bangs that plastered his face, JayJay caught a glimpse of eyes that were much older than the rest of the kid's body.

He smiled, and the room went bright. JayJay was Navajo, but his roots were Athabaskan. He was a transplant to the harsh Alaskan frontier from New Mexico because reservation life was not for him - had never been for him. Ever since he could remember, he'd felt the pull of the sea. Ten years ago, when he was 17, he'd finally cut ties and returned to the homeland of his ancestors. And he'd never looked back. He'd worked for every scrap of anything he'd ever had, and damned hard. He hadn't grown up the son of a fisherman, hadn't stepped into the role easily with a father or an older brother to guide and watch out for him. No.

JayJay had arrived, cold, frozen and starving on the docks of Dutch Harbor 10 years ago, lying about his age, and had subsequently begged every crab boat captain in the cove to take him on. When one wizened old skipper had finally taken pity on him, JayJay had surprised the man by becoming the best greenhorn he'd ever hired.

JayJay's legend had grown from that very first day, standing on that very same dock, with no experience and nothing but the pull of the sea to propel him.

And the rest was history.

When JayJay looked at Sam, the sense of deja vu was overwhelming. The young skipper remembered it all - including how loudly his belly had growled that first night. He remembered feeling like he would happily wrestle a walrus with his bare hands if it meant a chance at a cup of hot, sweet coffee. He stood, causing the crew that was gathered around him to grow quiet.

"Sam." He spoke in his quiet, deliberate way. "Come join us." He gestured to the table and to the empty seat beside him.

Sam looked up, hearing his name, and saw his skipper standing next to a large table filled with whom he assumed were the crew. He pasted on a nervous smile and walked over, taking the one empty seat. He placed his soaked and dripping duffle on the floor at his feet, glancing around him, nodding at everyone and at no one in particular.

"Sam, this is my crew." He made a sweeping gesture that included everyone at the table. He turned then and motioned to the waitress, but Sam didn't catch what he said because the man to his left suddenly offered his hand and smiled, "They call me Whitey." He said.

Sam grinned, shaking. "Whitey."

"This is Lars. That's Rog, Mike - he's deck boss - and you've met Skipper, apparently."

Sam nodded at each man in turn. "I'm Sam." He said simply, then started when a massive plate of pan-fried fish, fries and seasonal vegetables appeared in front of him. He looked up in alarm, "Oh, no." He told the waitress. "This isn't mine." And it smelled so good that Sam suddenly wanted to cry, his stomach rumbling loudly in dissent.

"It is for you, Sam." JayJay informed him. "Eat. You will need your strength to battle the crab." The young captain smiled and winked. He leaned back as the waitress placed a stack of cups in front of them and settled two pots of coffee on the table. JayJay plucked his cup from the table immediately, setting another in front of Sam, and proceeded to fill them both. "Coffee." He simply nodded, waving the pot in the air.

And it was good that the skipper had rescued a cup for him because there was a sudden mad scramble as every man at the table dove for the small tower of restaurant ware. JayJay shook his head at Sam. "They are like animals when the coffee shows up." He nudged the small basket filled with sugar and creamer packets over to Sam who snagged what he needed immediately, fearing he'd lose the chance if he waited.

JayJay tossed his head back, laughing. "You learn quick, slatsiin."

Sam smiled, feeling like he'd just entered a foreign land. He liked his new skipper immensely. "Thank you." He said.

"You are welcome."

Sam ate.


	9. Dean Wakes Up

Bobby was fostering a new fascination with the local weather channel. He couldn't keep his eyes away. Sam had been at sea for two days now, and still no phone call. At least he was pleased to see, that according to the local anchorwoman at least, Sam should have smooth sailing ahead.

He stared at the screen and allowed his mind to drift.

"Bobby?"

The old hunter started, his gaze traveling to the bed.

Dean was awake.

Sort of.

Bobby rose and stood looking down at him, grinning. "Well it's about damn time you put in an appearance."

Dean blinked slowly, repeatedly, as though trying to clear debris away from his eyes. "S'goin' on? Where's Sam?"

"He's around." Bobby hedged. "How you feelin'? You had us all worried, boy."

Dean tried to turn his head, wincing. "What happened? Why does my head feel like … like this?" He raised a shaking hand to his forehead.

"Just calm down and don't get your boxers in a bunch. You're fresh out of surgery. You're gonna be fine."

Dean stilled. "Surgery? What happened? Is Sam … ? Was it the sea hag? Is Sam okay?"

"Your brother's fine." Bobby hoped he wasn't lying. "It wasn't the hunt. To hear Sam tell it, you got off the plane and collapsed in your motel room. You had a bad headache and a seizure and Sam brought you here."

Dean frowned, trying to remember. "What was it?"

Bobby studied the boy carefully. "It was a tumor, Dean. On your brain."

The younger boy froze, staring at his uncle. "What?"

"Now don't go panickin'. They got it all out, and it was benign, so you got a clean bill of health. No cancer."

Dean stared, "You bein' straight with me, Bobby? Cause if my number's up, I need to know. I gotta plan. Sam …"

Bobby shook his head. "Ain't no planning to do. Your doc will be by sometime today. You can ask him yourself if you don't believe me."

"So … so I'm good? You sure?"

Bobby smiled, "Right as rain, Dean. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this, son. You're gonna be fine."

Dean closed his eyes, relief evident. "So what'd they do to me?"

"Well, I ain't had the pleasure of seein' it yet, but doc says you got about 20 staples in the back of your head. The tumor was right at the base of your head, near your spine."

Dean winced. "Well, ouch."

"Pain bad? Do I need to call someone?" Bobby poised his hand over the call button.

Dean paused, putting out feelers. "No, I think I'm okay. I mean, it hurts like a bitch, but nothing I can't stand." He looked up, "Where's Dad?"

Bobby grimaced before he could catch himself. "He's around."

Dean stared, then smiled. "You can't lie for shit, Bobby. He's not here, is he?"

Bobby shook his head, "Sam couldn't get him. Couldn't get Jonesy. He ain't answerin' my calls either. Probably holed up somewhere, planning his next move."

Dean snorted, "Right." He paused, "Wait, if Sam couldn't get a hold of Dad … when did you get here?"

"Yesterday evening."

"So, Sam was alone for all that time? Just him and me here unconscious in the damned bed? Kid must have been terrified." Dean's face grew dark.

"Don't count him out. Kid's pretty scrappy when he needs to be."

"That's just it. He shouldn't need to be. He's 16. So did he have to make the decision on whether they operated?"

Bobby nodded. "And I'm sure he weighed all the pros and cons religiously before making the call, Dean. You know your brother."

But Dean was picturing how he'd feel in the same circumstance if Sam needed emergency surgery and Dad wasn't around to make the call. Dean would be terrified. Damn Dad for putting his little brother through that.

"When he gets here, if he gets here, I don't think I wanna see him. Leave it up to Sam. He's the one who got saddled with all the responsibility. Where'd you say he is, again?"

"Around."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Sam's around. Dad's around. Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?" his voice trailed off as an overwhelming wave of sleepiness rolled over him. "Tell me what's goin' on …"

And he was out.

Bobby smiled. Same old Dean - more worried about his brother than himself. When he woke up and learned that his little brother was somewhere out in the middle of the Bering Sea, working to pay off Dean's hospital bill … well … shit was going to hit the fan very soon, and Bobby wasn't looking forward to it one bit.

He was so glad his name wasn't John Winchester.


	10. Word From the Sea

Sam was certain he'd never eat herring again. Or codfish. Or maybe food in general.

After a solid fifteen hours of mostly standing at the bait station, the pain between his shoulder blades was beyond a twinge. He ached in places he wasn't even sure could ache. And the only respite he got was when they splashed pots. They'd sunk all 100, and Sam had cut the bait and packed the bait bags for every one of them, handing them off to Rog. That was where his job had ended, initially. Rog crawled inside the mouth of each pot and hooked the bag on, but so far, they hadn't let Sam help steady the pots as they came down off the hydros or do much of anything else. Mike assured him that once they started pulling pots, he'd have plenty to do, but they'd only sunk the last one about 20 minutes ago, and they all needed at least a 7-hour soak.

Sam learned soon enough that there was no such thing as a regular break time aboard a commercial crabbing vessel. Lars had explained that they worked for days sometimes without a break - 36 or even 56 hours, depending how the crab were running. Luckily, JayJay seemed to have intuition about where the crabs were, and they typically scored big their first time out. It was when the pots were hauled in empty or near empty, Lars had explained, that the work got backbreaking. He showed Sam how the pots were chained down and explained that it would eventually be one of his jobs to secure the returning pots as they were pulled in out of the dark sea and unloaded.

Sam couldn't wait. Anything that got him away from endless miles of ground herring and disemboweled codfish would be a relief. Sam thought he'd even be willing to dive into the sea and retrieve the damned pots by hand at this point, if it gave him a chance to stretch his muscles.

A sudden clap on his back startled him. Mike was there, grinning. "Take a break greenhorn." He advised. "You've done a damned good job so far."

Sam noticed all the guys were heading below deck for a short respite before the soak timed out, and it was time to pull the pots back up. He followed willingly, relieved beyond words.

"Rog, you're up." Mike shoulder-bumped him good-naturedly, and the 40-something man groaned. Rog had mostly manned the hydros so far - those were the hydraulics that pulled the 700-lb pots onto the lift. Mike had pointed the job out to Sam, explaining that it was a job for an experienced hand - one wrong move could bring a pot down onto a crewmember, swing it into a crewmember, or just generally wreak havoc. Sam had smiled, nodding. Mike had been great so far about explaining everything that was going on aboard the vessel, and Sam felt like he already had a hang for things.

But damn, it felt good to sit down.

Rog got up and headed into the small galley, and once he heard pots and pans clanging, Sam realized that the older man had been charged with cooking.

Suddenly, food sounded interesting again.

So long as it wasn't herring.

Sam wondered when and if you got a shower aboard the boat, but he didn't want to ask. He didn't want to sound like a sissy. He figured it would be better to watch and wait and see if anyone else headed to the showers. He did go wash his hands up to his elbows though.

One thing that couldn't wait, and Sam asked Lars, "Do cell phones work out here?"

The old-timer grinned, "You got a girl waiting back home, greenhorn?"

Sam smiled and shook his head. "Just family. Wanted to let them know I'm okay."

"Nah, no cell phones out here, son. Sorry."

Sam's heart sank. He couldn't go this whole stretch without word of Dean. He just couldn't.

Mike was watching the exchange and must have seen the panic in Sam's eyes at the answer. He moved on it. "What's up, Sam?"

Sam looked up, startled. "Nothing," he lied, not wanting to seem needy.

Mike studied him. As deck boss, he'd seen greenhorns come and go. Some needed babied. Others felt like they should be given any job they wanted right away.

Sam was neither of these things. The boy kept his mouth shut and his head down and his mind on his work. In the short time he'd known him, Mike liked him immensely. He had a feeling the boy wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important. "Come on. Give. Who you gonna call?" He asked jokingly, sounding like the theme from Ghostbusters.

Sam smiled. "My brother's in the hospital back in Unalaska. I thought maybe … I wanted to know how he's doing. Let him and my uncle know I'm okay."

Mike frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

Sam glanced around nervously, suddenly aware that the room had gone quiet. No one but Mike was looking directly at him, but everyone was interested in hearing what he had to say. He cleared his throat.

"He … uh … We came up to meet my dad for vacation and Dean, uh … he had a seizure. They found out he had a brain tumor. He would have had the surgery yesterday. I just … I wanted to know how he's doing."

Rog poked his head in from the galley, "Damn hell, boy. This is your vacation?" He asked, confused.

Sam chuckled, "Well, it was supposed to be something like that, but the hospital … they wanted money before they'd … you know … operate. So I needed a job …" Sam hoped he didn't sound ungrateful - like he was only there for the money.

But he needn't have worried. Every hand on board was experienced. They'd all worked with greenhorns too, and down to the last man - Sam impressed them. He came aboard with a humble attitude. He didn't try to run things or give ultimatums. He never disappeared off-deck, and he hadn't yet complained. He was a rare breed, especially for a kid who'd never set foot on a crab boat before.

Mike clarified, "So you left before he had the surgery?"

Sam turned pink instantly, misery evident in his eyes. He nodded.

"Why, son?"

"The hospital … the lady in the financial office … she wouldn't schedule Dean's surgery until I could show her proof that I had a job."

"Your dad couldn't help out?"

"He's … uh … I couldn't find him."

Nobody said anything, and the silence grew long and awkward. Sam wished he'd never asked his question. "It's okay." He tried to lighten the mood. "My uncle … he's there with him. He'll be okay, I know. I just …" He trailed off, miserable.

Mike stood up. "Come with me." He said.

Sam looked up, startled. He hoped Mike wasn't taking him to JayJay to complain about the whiny, new greenhorn. He stood and followed the older man slowly.

Mike winked then, "You'll never get him by cell phone, but I can show you how to send and receive email. That's almost as good, right?"

Sam's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes sir. Thank you!"

###

Beside Dean's bed, Bobby's cell phone blipped. He scrunched his brows in confusion, not recognizing the sound. He pulled the contraption from his pocket to see that he had an email. Then he remembered - Sam had said something once about pushing posts to Bobby's phone or something like that. He'd set the whole thing up.

The old hunter had never read an email off his phone before, but he shrugged. How hard could it be? He pushed a button:

 _Hi Bobby,_

 _Can't talk on my phone out here, but can send and receive email. All is well. How is Dean?_

 _Sam_

Bobby jerked himself upright. Sam! Son of a bitch. The kid was okay! Bobby wrestled with how to send an email back. But it was no use.

He had no idea.

And he sure wasn't waking Dean to ask.

"Balls!"

"You okay there, Bobby?" The pretty young nurse asked, smiling up from taking Dean's vitals.

Bobby's eyes widened. "Hey, uh, Penny … you know how to send an email from a phone?"

Penny laughed, "Well, yeah. Who doesn't?"

"Me. And I need to send one. It's real important. Think you could show me?"

She smiled and moved to stand beside him. "Sure. Here, look. It's easy." And she walked him through the process, reading over his shoulder as he laboriously typed. She frowned, "That's a Winlink address. Is that why we haven't seen Sam around? He's on a boat?"

Bobby nodded, "He's on a crab boat out in the Bering Sea."

Her eyes widened, "Sam? The teenage boy who came in with Dean? That kid is on a crab boat?"

"Desperate times and all that." Bobby replied, finishing his email and sighing in relief. He hoped Sam got it right away.

Penny frowned. "He took the job to pay for Dean's treatment?"

Bobby nodded.

She looked angry. "What's the name of the boat?"

"Uh, _Brown-Eyed Girl_ , I think."

She suddenly smiled, relaxing. "That's JayJay. He's in good hands."

Bobby looked up, startled, "You know the captain?"

"You could say that." She grinned and held up her left hand, fiddling with her engagement ring.

Bobby's eyes went wide. "Well ain't that something? Small world, hunh?"


	11. Dean Learns the Truth

Dean studied his uncle silently as the older man caught a catnap in the chair beside his bed. This was the second time Dean remembered waking, and this time he felt much more like his old self. He'd felt around, and the back of his head was sore. But other than that, he felt pretty darned good.

Until he realized, Sam was still AWOL.

Dean was scared. He knew Sam. And he knew there was no way the kid wouldn't be here while Dean had major surgery. Something was wrong. He pressed the call button by his bed, not wanting to wake his uncle.

When the nurse slipped into the room, she smiled. "You're awake!" She said quietly, trying not to disturb the older man she'd grown quite fond of. "My name's Penny. I'll be your nurse for today. How do you feel?"

"I feel good. Hey, I was wondering … has my brother been by?"

She adjusted some buttons on Dean's machine, "You mean Sam? I don't think he's going to be back for awhile."

Dean frowned, "Why not?"

"JayJay usually makes the most of his runs. They'll be out until they fill the tanks with crab. That usually takes a week or two." She smiled down at him. "Your brother's a nice kid. JayJay's going to love him."

Dean was so lost, he'd never find his way with a compass.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He confessed. "The kid that came in with me - tall, floppy hair, sad eyes?"

"Yeah, Sam. Right?"

"Right."

"He's out on a crab boat. Took the job to pay for your surgery, I think. Your uncle didn't tell you?"

Dean stopped breathing. "Out on a crab boat where?"

She stared at him, "Maybe I should let Bobby catch you up." She said, suddenly realizing she'd probably said too much.

He grabbed her arm. "Please. He's … he's my kid brother. It's my job to watch out for him."

She smiled. "Well apparently, Sam feels like the situation is reversed. I never saw a kid so dedicated to his brother. He never left your side until Atilla down in finance sent him packing."

"Atilla?"

Penny chuckled, "Atilla the Hun. That's what we call Mrs. Moore. She's the meanest thing you ever saw. You can bet she's the reason Sam signed on board _Brown-Eyed Girl_. I don't know for sure, but I can pretty much guess that she told him - no job, no surgery for his brother."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "What?"

"I'm sorry. I guess it's all kind of a shock. I probably said too much. But I'm sure Sam will be okay. JayJay goes out on the Bering Sea every season, and he's always brought his crew back safe. He's my fiance, you know." She smiled proudly.

Dean blinked. "So my brother is out on a crab boat in the Bering Sea with your fiance?"

She nodded, "Yep. Pretty much sums it up."

Dean was going to kill someone.

"Bobbbby!" He yelled.

Bobby startled awake. "Dean! What's wrong, boy?" He shot to the bedside.

"Sam's on a freaking' crab boat in the middle of the freaking Bering Sea! That's what's wrong!"

Bobby met Penny's eyes. She smiled, embarrassed, "I was helping."

Bobby sighed. He knew it was coming sooner or later. "Apparently he is, Dean. Yes."

"How could you let that happen? And where's Dad? I'm gonna kick his ass into next week."

"I didn't let anything happen. Your stubborn brother made that decision all on his own. The kid was gone when I got here - didn't leave nothing but a note." Bobby remembered then - the second envelope with Dean's name on it. He eyed the older boy. "How you feeling?"

"Like I'm gettin' out of this bed and going after Sam."

Penny's eyes widened. "Dean! You just had brain surgery. You can't go anywhere. Not yet."

"Watch me." He tried to swing a leg over the bed.

Okay, that was a mistake.

He was instantly nauseous, the pain in his head ratcheting up to an 11 on a scale of one to ten. He groaned, falling backward.

"Dean!" Bobby and Penny both yelled at the same time, make separate attempts to grab him before he fell out of bed.

"Stay put, ya idjit!" Bobby slipped the boy's leg back onto the mattress. "You ain't gonna help Sam by getting yourself back in ICU."

"Bobby," Dean groaned pathetically, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. "Sam practically gets seasick in the shower. How's he …" He trailed off, sounding like he was about to cry.

Penny watched him, distress evident on her face and in her voice. "Oh Dean! I'm so sorry! I said too much." She sounded like she was one reprimand away from tears herself.

Bobby wished a reaper would just sweep into the room right then and carry him off to someplace more peaceful - Hell maybe. He sighed again.

"Listen up, you two. Sam is going to be fine." He addressed Penny. "Dean is going to be fine. He had to find out somehow, so just stop feeling bad about it. Dean," He turned back to the older boy, "If you feel up to it, Sam left you a note."

Dean froze, looking up at his uncle. "He did?"

Bobby retrieved it from the window well and placed it in Dean's hands. "You okay to read it? Or you want me to read it to you?"

"I can read it. At least, I think I can." He slipped the folded paper out of the envelope and pressed it out flat. He read:

 _Dean,_

 _If you're reading this, then everything went well, and you're through your surgery. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, but know that I'm thinking about you every single hour. I never was able to reach Dad or Jonesy, but I got through to Bobby, and he came through like he always has. So now you have family with you while you recover._

 _I'll be back as soon as I can, though it may not be before you're discharged. There was a glitch with the insurance, and the hospital needed a down payment before they'd do your surgery, so I got a job. I signed on for a four-week run with a local crab boat, the Brown-Eyed Girl._

 _I hate that fact that I can't be there with you right now when you need me the most, but I couldn't think of any other way to get you the help you needed. Stay away from the lady in financial if you can help it, she's worse than any sea hag. I wouldn't try braiding her hair. (You can laugh, Dean. That was a joke)_

 _But your surgeon is a great guy. He's done these types of surgeries lots of times, and he assures me that you're going to be fine._

 _So I'll have my cell phone with me, but I don't know how that will work once we're in the middle of the Bering Sea. I don't know if I'll be able to charge it or if it will pick up a signal even. If I can, I'll call you ship-to-shore, but again, I'm not sure how that all works or if the captain will let me. The captain is just a young guy, but he has a real good reputation, Dean. He always brings his crew and his boat home safe. His name is JayJay Yazzie, and he's like a local legend or something. I like him a lot. He seems like a real nice guy._

 _So concentrate on getting better, jerk. And don't you dare spend all your recovery time worrying about me. I'll be back at the dock in a month with enough money to make the down payment and all the king crab legs you, me and Bobby can eat._

 _Love you, man._

 _Take care,_

 _Sam_

Dean stopped reading then, and sat silent. He turned his face away so the others wouldn't be witness to his devastation.

Sam had sacrificed everything - maybe his life, even - to get Dean the help he needed. The kid was out there right now, battling the elements and the sea and only God knew what else because he'd been Dean's only hope. Dean was alive right now because Sam had made the decision to take on the most dangerous job in the world. Dean had watched the documentaries about Alaskan crab fishing. He knew the score - you didn't always return home from that job. And the Bering Sea … he shivered just thinking about it.

"Oh Sammy," he whispered, swiping at his eyes. "I am so gonna kick your scrawny, over-responsible ass."

This was supposed to be a simple hunt - a bit of a vacation even - just a small hunt for a ... Suddenly Dean went cold all over, fear grasping his heart.

The sea hag ...


	12. Sammy Meets Sedna

The excitement among the crew was palpable as the boat made its way back to the beginning of the first string. And Sam found himself drawn up in it. Every face on board was grinning as they pulled alongside the first bright-orange buoy. Lars tossed the hook, snagging the line on the first try, and Sam couldn't help but wonder at the smoothness of his pitch. The buoy was a long way out, but Lars just aimed and tossed and dragged the line right in. He threaded it through the wheels of the hydraulic pulley so quickly, Sam barely saw him moving. Then suddenly, the pot was rising out of the black depths, with every man leaning over to see how many crab were trapped inside.

The collective "whoop" that went up from the experienced crew told the boy that the fishing was good in these parts. He felt happy for the skipper. Sam didn't quite understand why, but apparently, if the pots come up empty or low, it was the captain's fault for not finding the crab.

Sam was mesmerized by the sight of the huge, steel trap rising up the side of the boat with what looked to be at least 50 of the biggest crabs he'd ever seen trapped inside - so mesmerized that he never saw the wave coming. He didn't hear Mike scream his name the first time over the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the hull. But he heard his deck boss the second time because the scream came right next to him as the massive wave hit the side of the boat and the 800-lb pot swung wide, heading straight for him. Sam had just a glimpse of the deadly missive as it swung his way, then Mike was tackling him to the wood, both men sliding across the deck of the boat as the water lifted and carried them to the opposite railing.

Sam heard Mike cry out. "Grab the railing! Grab the railing! We're going over!"

Sam's hand shot out, scrabbling for a hold on anything solid. His left hand found the railing as the wave washed him up and over it. His right hand found Mike's jacket. Sam held on to both with everything he had as the boat righted itself and the alarm went off.

"Man overboard! Man overboard!" Sam heard JayJay's voice over the loudspeaker, but he was focusing all his strength on holding onto Mike who was dead weight. Sam hung from the outside of the boat's railing, and Mike hung from Sam - both getting pummeled over and over by the waves.

It felt like hours, but it was, in fact, only minutes before Whitey and Rog had hold of him. "Give me your other hand!" the engineer screamed, but Sam shook his head, too choked with the seawater he'd swallowed to speak.

Lars leaned over the railing, holding the rescue sling, searching the water for Mike. "Where is he! You see him! Mike!"

"Sam! Give me your hand, Dammit!"

Sam shook his head again, unable to tell them that it was holding fast to Mike, who was currently under the wave.

"You little shit!" Whitey yelled, "Get your hand up here! I can't get a grip on you. Move, Sam! Now!"

It took everything he had, but Sam managed to shift his weight and raise his right hand out of the churning water enough for Whitey to see Mike's gear.

"Mike! He's here! He's here!" Whitey shouted. "Sam has him!"

The three men leaned over the railing, realizing they'd have to relieve Sam of Mike's dead weight before they could pull the boy to safety. They hauled him up and over the side, all four of them falling backward under his weight and the churning of the boat. Sam was able to get his other hand up and over the railing then, and he scrabbled to pull his feet up too. He was almost there when another massive wave overtook them and swept across him, spinning him around and wrenching his right hand loose. Sam hung by one hand once again as he felt his grip slipping.

Then she was there and lifting him up. Sam felt himself buoyed by sudden pressure beneath him. He caught a flash of long, black hair and a glimpse of brown eyes, and then he was able to grasp the railing with both hands again. He climbed up, stood on the deck, held the railing and looked behind him as she drifted back beneath the surface. She smiled the most beautiful smile Sam had ever seen and moved her hands in a calming motion as the sea around him leveled out.

Whitey was there then, pulling him up and over, and Sam collapsed in a heap on the deck, fifty angry and animated crabs glaring at him from just inches away.


	13. A Major Slip of the Lip

There were two pairs of anxious eyes riveted to the television screen these days inside Dean's room. In fact, the box played continuously, switching back and forth between the local news and the local weather station. Dean and Bobby watched so much television that they came to know the local news anchor on site. Her name was Allian Sanders, and she wanted a promotion in a big way. Dean suspected she also got off on tragedies, but hey, he wasn't judging.

"Someone died, she's all excited again." Bobby noted, as the camera zoomed in. And sure enough, Allian launched excitedly into a horrific story involving a house fire that had claimed the lives of four children. She was practically bouncing in her seat. He muted the sound, turning to Dean.

"Something seriously ain't right with her."

Dean bit his lip, his mind off the inappropriate newswoman. "You think they gave Sam a coat? And boots? All he's got are worn-out sneakers. They'd have to be slippery on a boat. He's always so cold. Damn it, Bobby. I've caught him shivering when it's like 60 degrees out." Dean looked forlorn.

"I'm sure your idjit brother has what he needs. They wouldn't let him on otherwise, insurance and all that."

"But what if he doesn't? What if he's cold? What if he's out there in that shitty windbreaker and jeans with sneakers? What if he slips and falls overboard? What about the sea hag? She could …"

"Dean. Enough." Bobby stopped him. "You ain't helping Sam by worryin' like this, and you sure ain't helpin' yourself. You want him back? Get yourself well so you can go get him."

Dean took that as a challenge. "You think I wouldn't?"

Bobby sighed. It was going to be a long day.

###

"Are you okay?" Whitey shouted, practically in Sam's face.

The boy shouted back, nodding, "Yeah."

"Good, cause we're two men down until Lars gets Mike squared away, and these crab have to come out of these pots. Can you do it?"

"Yeah."

Whitey smiled, "Good! Let's get you on your feet." He helped Sam stand, and explained what needed to happen.

"When Rog brings the pots up, you and me gotta get them back on the lift. Then we open and sort. Then I'll go chain up the empty. Got it?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now grab that pot." He gestured to the one sitting on deck that had almost flattened him and Mike.

Sam grabbed the right side, and guided the pot as Rog lifted it with the pulley. When it was in range, Whitey grabbed the left, and they guided it gently onto the lift. Sam followed Whitey's movements in opening the pot and sweeping the crab into the big bin for sorting. Whitey gave Sam the calipers.

"The body has to be this big." He showed Sam how to use the tool. Anything smaller goes back or we get fined. Got it?"

Sam nodded.

"Keepers go here. Females and smaller go there. I"ll chain up the pot while you sort."

"Okay." Sam grabbed the nearest crab and measured it carefully. It was a keeper.

Whitey was back before Sam was done sorting. He pulled out his own caliper and helped measure the few that were left. "Did you count the keepers?"

Sam nodded, glad he'd done that without even realizing it. "Thirty-six." He shouted, over the roar of the storm.

"Good. Now turn toward skipper and tell him how many. Like this. Whitey demonstrated holding up first three fingers, then six. "Thirty-six. Got it?"

"Yeah."

Whitey smiled again. "Good! Now we do it all again!"

And the work became repetitive. Whitey tossing the hook and threading the line through the wheels. Rog pulling the pot up and over the side with the hydros, and Sam and Whitey steadying it and positioning it on the lift.

Then empty, measure, sort.

Over and over again.

Whitey and Sam finished the first string of thirty pots all by themselves. It took hours, but Sam never complained or slowed down. Whitey eyed the boy from time to time, impressed. Occasionally, he'd ask if the kid was okay, but Sam always just nodded and kept moving. His eyes down, mind on the job.

The kid was one hell of a greenhorn.

Finally Whitey tapped him on the shoulder. "Last pot for now. Help me chain it up."

Sam nodded, following the older man and watching the process. Whitey looked up and grinned. "Now we rest."

Sam smiled falteringly, making Whitey curious. The kid should have been ecstatic. But he soon understood when they stepped below deck, and Sam immediately took off in search of Mike. They found the deck boss shirtless and wrapped in blankets, sporting a dozen bruises. Lars knelt before him, carefully wrapping the man's ribs."

Sam froze in the doorway, taking in the sight, his heart sinking.

Mike looked up and grinned, "There's our man." He said, winking.

"You ... you okay?" Sam asked nervously.

"What, this?" Mike gestured to his ribs. "Hell yeah, just a scratch. Sure beats a tumble into the Bering Sea. I hear I have you to thank for that."

Sam's eyes welled immediately. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean … I didn't see it coming. I'm sorry."

The three experienced crabbers exchanged confused looks. "Sorry for saving my life?" Mike joked.

"What? No, I mean … it was my fault … You got hurt trying to help me."

Mike shook his head. "That ain't what happened kid. You can't control a rogue wave. Way I remember it, we were both goners til you grabbed that railing and latched onto me. Lars here says I was dead-weight too. Out cold. You're a scrapper, son. Thank you."

Sam stared, not comprehending, "But …I didn't hear you. I wasn't paying attention. The crabs …"

Mike grinned again, "They're a sight, ain't they? Mesmerizing." He knew what had happened, and he was letting Sam off the hook. The boy smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too, kid. And my wife and kids thank you too. Or they will, once we get back." The deck boss joked. He turned to Whitey. "How many left?"

Whitey shrugged. "Don't know what you're talking about. We got 'em all. Whole first string. Sorted and tanked."

Mike stared. "You and Rog and Sam?"

"Me and Sam. Rog had the hydros."

"How'd it go?"

"Smooth as silk. Kid acts like he's been doin' this for years."

Mike nodded, staring behind the boy as he made his way back to the lounge. "That he does."

Lars spoke up finally. "I'm hungry."

"Well then you best get to cookin'." Mike joked, and the older man groaned. "They torture me. I wrap the ribs, and still they torture me."

###

Later, as the crew sat around the dining table, eating Lars' attempt at spaghetti and meatballs, Mike handed Sam a piece of paper. "Got a reply to that email, Sam."

Sam's eyes went wide, and he took the paper, his hand shaking. His eyes scanned the document, and he grinned.

So did every other man in the room.

"He's good then, your brother?" Lars questioned.

"Yeah. He's … he's out of surgery and awake. Say's he wants to kick my ass."

The laughter was quick and spontaneous, and Sam was caught up in it, too relieved to remember to lie.

"So is Dean older or younger?" Mike asked, settling in across the table and eyeing his plate of spaghetti with trepidation.

"Older by four years." Sam answered absently, re-reading his letter. "Dean's twenty."

It wasn't until the room went quiet, the men stunned, that Sam realized his mistake. He looked up in sudden fear. "Twenty-two, I mean. He's twenty-two."

Mike's face was dark, "Sam, are you telling us that you're 16 years old?"

"No! I'm not. I have ID. I can show you!" Sam was suddenly terrified they'd take his cut away from him.

"Are you lying to me? Don't lie to me."

And suddenly Sam couldn't. The deck boss had been too good to him. "Okay, I'm sixteen. But you have to believe me, I can do this job. I can. Please don't take my share away. I … Dean needs … Please!"

Mike sat stunned. He looked around at the crew, but none of the men would look at him.

Except Sam. The boy sat there with these huge, hope-filled eyes trained right on him.

Damn. Those eyes.

Mike sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Sam …" He began.

And Sam knew. He could tell by the tone what was coming. Mike was gonna tell him he was too young, that the boat's insurance policy didn't cover him. They were gonna head back to port and put him off the boat, penniless.

"Please?" Sam begged, for the second time in a week. "Please, Mike? I wouldn't ask for myself. But Dean … he could need more surgery. I need … I need this money. Dean - he's all I have. Dad's never been there. It was always just me and Dean. I can't lose him."

Mike looked away, unable to look at the boy as he made his decision.

But it had to be done.


	14. Kindness

Mike sighed. He looked back, meeting Sam's eyes. "It's not my call, Sam. This is JayJay's boat. You'll have to come clean. Come on. Let's get it over with." He stood, waiting for Sam to join him.

And Sam did. He stood on shaky feet, grasping Bobby's email in his hand. The boy moved past the rest of the crew, face pale and hands trembling. He felt like he was walking his last mile as the two made their way to the captain.

JayJay spun around in his seat as Mike appeared at the top of the stairs. He smiled, "Mike. How are you?"

Mike nodded, "Still drawing breath. We can thank Sam for that." He smiled, stepping back and drawing the reluctant boy forward. "Sam has something to tell you, skip."

JayJay focused his attention on the young greenhorn. The boy looked terrified, and the skipper frowned. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam blushed pink, his head down. "I … uh ... " He twisted the email in nervous hands. "I …"

JayJay frowned at Mike over Sam's head. "Come on. It cannot be that bad?"

Sam looked up then, straight at JayJay. "I'm sixteen."

JayJay froze, leaning back. He met Mike's eyes. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen." Mike repeated sadly.

JayJay whistled. "I guessed seventeen. At seventeen, a boy can be a man, Sam. Sixteen … sixteen is always going to be a boy."

Sam's eyes were huge. "Please? Please let me stay? I can do the work, I swear. If I couldn't, I'd tell you."

"Why do you need to do a man's job so badly?"

Sam faltered, not wanting to sound pathetic. "I … my brother is … sick."

JayJay nodded. "Your mother? Father?"

"My mother is dead. My father is … I don't know where he is. It's just always been Dean and me."

JayJay blinked. "Come, Sam. Sit." He nodded at Mike, giving him leave to go.

Sam inched forward and sat down in the chair across the cabin. He was sure he knew what JayJay was about to say, but the man surprised him.

"Did you see her?"

Sam looked up, "What?"

"The goddess. She was in the water with you."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "You saw?"

JayJay held up binoculars, smiling. "I watch when there is a man in the water. You are special, slatsiin. On a good day, she flays fingers from the hands of fishermen like us. She chose to save you. You should feel flattered." He chuckled, "and you should take care to count the fingers on each hand."

Sam stared. "It was Sedna?"

JayJay's eyes widened, "You are familiar with the Inuit stories?"

"No, just Sedna. She's the goddess of the sea. Her father chopped off her fingers and now she does the same to fishermen who mistreat their teenage daughters."

JayJay's mouth thinned in thought. "That is only part of the story. She also protects children whose fathers hurt them. Boys and girls. I was surprised to see her beneath you, helping you regain your grip on the railing. But now I think I understand."

Sam gazed at his captain. "I think … I think she calmed the sea."

"I think the same. There was a storm, and then there wasn't. I think you saved more than Mike, young Sam. I think you being here may have saved my boat."

Normally, Sam was above using information like this to his advantage, but this was for Dean … "You should let me stay then. Maybe I'm good luck?" He grinned.

JayJay smiled, "I believe that is what is referred to as blackmail."

Sam shrugged. "Or fate."

JayJay stretched back, "When I arrived on the docks ten years ago, I had a fake ID and an empty belly. One captain was willing to take a chance on me. One. This was after a dozen others had turned me away. I was fresh from the reservation, feeling the pull of the sea. I would have died on the docks if one man had not shown me kindness. I would not have gone back. I could not breathe on the reservation. I do understand, my friend."

Sam felt the first spark of hope. "So … I can stay?"

JayJay nodded. "You do a man's share of work. You are excellent as a greenhorn. I see no advantage in turning back and putting you off my boat. It will put us behind and leave us a good man short. You are safe, Sam Hetfield. Now go, eat. You will need your strength for the crab."

 _ **Authors Note:**_ _Thank you to everyone who is reviewing and reading :) I love hearing from you. I took liberties with Sedna's legend to fit my story, so it's not the true Inuit legend that's represented here - just the basis._


	15. Storm Warning

Dean looked up from Sam's laptop, signaling to Bobby. "Hey, turn it up. It's time for the local weather."

He glanced back down at Sedna. She was all over the place. Some images depicted her as a hag, others as a raving beauty. And Sam was right - the tales about how she'd lost her hands were profuse.

Bobby adjusted the remote, then went back to his book - an imposing tome on local sea lore that he'd borrowed from the downtown library. Both men only half-listened to the words coming from the speakers.

Sam's laptop beeped, and suddenly Dean had an email. He clicked and grinned. It was a photo of Sam aboard the boat. He was dressed snugly in boots with rain pants and a slicker covering him from head to toe. His attire was blinding yellow with the words _Brown-Eyed Girl_ running down one sleeve. Sam had a look of mock horror on his face as he stared into the camera and held onto what was decidedly the biggest and most terrifying crab Dean had ever seen. The thing looked like something they should hunt, not something his baby brother should be within fifty feet of - let alone holding fearlessly. Sam's hair was wet, his face ruddy and red, and he looked for all the world like he was about 12 years old. Behind him stood two of the crew, making bunny ears over his head and sporting shit-eating grins.

"Holy shit!" Dean breathed. "Bobby!"

Bobby sighed, "If it's another topless drawing of a sea hag, Dean, I ain't interested."

Dean looked up, "What? She had a rack, Bobby. Rack … with a capital R. You should thank me. And anyway, it's Sam. You gotta see this."

Bobby slapped his book closed immediately and scooted his chair over, leaning in to look. His eyes went wide. "Son of a bitch is as big as your brother! You supposed to eat that or put a saddle on it and ride it?"

"Yer not kiddin'!" Dean breathed. He read the email out loud.

" _Hey Dean. Hey Bobby. I can't send pics often. This goes out over a dinosaur email server, but I wanted to let you guys know I'm okay. Lars took this pic today, especially so I could send it to you._

 _Anyone hungry for crab? Ha Ha!_

 _Anyway, Dean. I think about you constantly, and yeah, that's a chick-flick thing to say, but it's true. I hope you're healing up good, and you better not be worrying about me. I'm having the time of my life out here. JayJay, Mike, Whitey, Lars and Rog are a great bunch of guys, and they seem to like me okay. I'm sure learning a lot about crab fishing, so if the hunting thing doesn't pan out, we can always buy a crab boat, hey?_

 _Ha ha!_

 _I miss you both, and can't wait to get back there. JayJay says we'll be heading back in by late tomorrow to get the catch home before the crabs begin to die off, so I should be in port by Sunday at the latest. So look for me then. I'll have at least a night in port, I think. I'll still have to come back out though, Dean, because I promised JayJay four weeks, and I can't let him down. I hope you and Bobby understand._

 _Take care of yourselves and get plenty of rest, jerk. And you better be eating some vegetables and not all those disgusting, greasy burgers. I can't wait to see you, man. Two more days!_

 _Love,_

 _Sam"_

Dean looked up, meeting Bobby's equally haunted eyes. It was obvious that Sam was making the best of a tough situation - lightening his reports so they wouldn't worry. Sam was making a silly face in the photo, but he had a hell of shiner over his right eye. One of the guys standing behind him had a gash in his cheek too that looked like it had been hastily stitched.

Obviously, crabbing wasn't the walk in the park that Sam made it out to be.

But what could they do? They couldn't exactly rent a boat and go after him. The boy deserved his chance to show what he could do - even if Dean was going to kick his scrawny ass to Mars and back when he finally got him home again.

Dean opened his mouth to speak when the words from the television suddenly echoed across the silence.

" … _super storm of the season, and it's headed directly for Alaskan fishing grounds. The National Weather Service has issued small craft advisories over tonight and tomorrow and gale force wind warnings through Sunday. So if you're out hauling in crab this weekend, your best bet is to anchor down someplace safe and ride this one out. The Super storm is feeding off the remnants of Typhoon Amara and could produce wind gusts up to 100 mph and waves up to 45 feet high. This storm is expected to bring the equivalent of a category 2 hurricane to the Bering Sea over the weekend."_

Bobby and Dean stared at each other in horror as Penny swept into the room, catching the last of the report. The three studied each other in silence, fear lingering in their eyes.


	16. Powerful Legend

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, trying to encourage his limbs to move. He'd had his first three-hour sleep since leaving port, and every muscle, every bone, every tendon in his body was screaming at him that he'd made a terrible mistake.

He'd never been this tired. Not ever. Not after hunting wendigos in Minnesota - not even after that marathon hunt for the vamp nest last year that had led him and Dean halfway across the country.

There had always been time for sleep.

Sam missed his brother and his old life so much he wanted to cry, but he tried to shove those thoughts down and concentrated instead on the physical pain. He had a nice black eye from two days ago when he'd made the mistake of stepping into a coiled line just as Whitey tossed the buoy it was connected to overboard. It had slung Sam to the deck and yanked him foot-first to the railing, his head connecting hard enough for stars to appear.

Then there was just the back-breaking work of the boat. For the first time in his life, Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to finish a job he'd set out to do. He'd promised JayJay four weeks, and they were only a little over a week in. The thought of having one day in port - of seeing Dean and Bobby for just a few hours and then coming back out - well, it made his heart hurt.

He wasn't sure he could do it.

But he kept his complaints and his worries to himself as he made his way back along the narrow hall to the galley. Mike met him there, grinning.

"Looks like you're up, Sammy."

Ever since they'd found out his real age, Sam had become Sammy. Some days he felt more like the boat mascot than a functioning member of her crew, not that the work was any less.

But he smiled at Mike and answered sleepily, "Okay." Then he realized he had no idea what the older man was telling him. "Up for what?"

Mike chuckled, "Your turn to cook, son. What secret culinary talents you have hidden up under your sleeve, hunh?"

Sam stood, thinking. He and Dean rarely ever cooked. If they did, it was boxed mac and cheese in the microwave-du-jour. His only real kitchen experience came from those happy times he'd been left behind with Bobby. He remembered the first meal Bobby had ever taught him to make.

"Pancakes and bacon gravy?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Mike blinked, "Sammy, if you can pull off pancakes and bacon gravy, we might never let you leave the galley ever again." He grinned and slapped Sam on his aching back. He slipped past the boy, leaving him to his work.

Sam looked around, lost. Then he sighed and began opening doors and cupboards.

###

Dean was finally up and around, which was good because it was difficult to pace when you were confined to a hospital bed.

"Bobby …" he moaned, unable to finish his thought. It was Sunday morning, and Sam's boat hadn't made it into port. Bobby had asked around, and it seemed none of the crabbers had made it back yet. And while that set their minds at ease a bit, the worry was still there.

Bobby looked on in sympathy. As much as Dean's pacing made him want to knock the kid out with a single, well-timed punch, the older hunter knew the boy couldn't help it.

Hell, Bobby wished he had an outlet for his fear right now.

Sam.

Their Sam. Out in the middle of the unforgiving sea with a dilly of a storm moving in. Bobby felt sick; he could only imagine what it must be like for Dean. He tried to soothe the wounded boy.

"He'll be okay, Dean. He's got one of the best skippers in the area, and he's got a hunter's smarts. Sam ain't gonna let himself be washed overboard. You know your brother. He always saves the day and gets the girl."

Dean sat down on the edge of his bed in a rare moment of stillness. He swiped at one eye, then began pacing again. He shook his head. "No he doesn't. He might always save the day, but he never even gets a damned thank you, let alone the girl." Dean looked up with haunted eyes. "He's out there because of me, Bobby. Me! Why didn't we stay in Sioux Falls? Why did we listen to Dad? Dammit! The son of a bitch isn't even here. Sammy'd be home right now. He'd be playing with your dog and calling me a jerk and …" He stopped, unable to continue. His voice broke, "If the little bitch doesn't make it back …"

Bobby swallowed back tears of his own as he laid a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. Neither man could speak, and Bobby had a feeling - a real bad feeling - about this storm. He'd never tell Dean, but the older hunter had felt a sickening fear settle in his stomach the moment the meteorologist had mentioned the storm. Bobby recognized it; it was the feeling he only got when one or the other of his boys was in serious trouble.

He squeezed the younger boy's shoulder and clicked on the television.

###

Sam held on and tried his best not to be sick all over the deck. JayJay, knowing the storm was coming, had tucked the boat up against the back of a small island to wait out the worst of it, but still, the sea was truly terrifying. And Sam was certain that he knew why.

As they'd sat down to eat Sam's breakfast-for-dinner, Rog had brought out his newspaper. It was several days old now, but it was the first time the crabber had found time to look it over. There was an article about human trafficking of young girls out of Dutch Harbor. The Coast Guard was alerting all vessels to maintain a sharp lookout for the vessel that was suspected of carrying the at least thirty girls to their doom.

Sedna was pissed, Sam suspected. And after he'd eaten, he made his way to the captain's chair.

JayJay greeted him happily, "Mother Earth is having a tantrum. Maybe she is testing you. Maybe she tests us all." He winked and grinned.

Sam smiled back, "I just … I was wondering … I mean, if you have time … if you could tell me more about Sedna?"

JayJay leaned back, thinking, 'It is good you put stock in the old stories, Sam. Many don't - even seasoned sailors and fishermen who should know better often discount the legends of The People. They were some of the first fishermen to these parts. They knew things that perhaps we do not. Still, some would call their legends stories and ignore them." He studied Sam. "I knew you would not. You are special."

Sam looked startled. "Me? I'm about as far from special as it gets."

"Perhaps it is your humility that makes you so, then." the skipper joked, then he suddenly turned serious, launching into storyteller mode.

"Sedna, the Great Ocean Mother of the Inuit people was once a beautiful girl who lived by the sea. She was lovely and courted by many suitors, but Sedna remained loyal to her father, who was a widower, and so she declined them all.

Until one day a handsome suitor came who promised to love and care for both her and her father, and she was smitten. She allowed the suitor to take her far away to a lonely island where there was neither love nor hope. There was not even enough food, and Sedna grew despondent. When her father traveled far by kayak to visit her and saw her distress, he became angry. He settled his lovely daughter in his kayak to take her home. But the suitor was really a raven, and he became angered when he learned that Sedna was gone. He caused a great storm at sea, and Sedna's father, overcome with fear, tossed his precious daughter overboard in an attempt to please Raven. When Sedna held on to the sides of the kayak, her father cut off her fingers to save his own life. Stunned and betrayed, Sedna sank to the bottom of the sea, her fingers becoming the sea life that surrounds us." JayJay finished, a faraway look in his eyes.

Sam nodded, "But there's more, isn't there?"

The skipper nodded, "Some say that Sedna sits on the sea floor, and that all the atrocities committed by man fall into the sea and rain down upon her. When her load becomes too heavy to bear, she cries. The sea creatures hear her, and they go to her to give her comfort. This is when the fishing and the crabbing becomes bad. These are times of great storms, and Sedna rises from the depths of the sea to take her vengeance upon fisherman who have harmed or betrayed their children. To appease her, someone must travel down into the black depths of the water to brush out her hair and to rub her skin with sand. Only then will Sedna be calmed." JayJay smiled. "It is quite a legend."

"Yes." Sam replied. "Thank you."

"Now what will you do with this new information, young Sam?" JayJay asked in a tone that might have been joking, might have been serious.

Sam shrugged, "It's just good to know."

"It is some storm." The captain looked out across the sea that rocked and ravaged his boat. He turned thoughtful. "Do you know how to transmit a distress call?" He suddenly asked. "I ask only because it is something every fisherman should know, not because I fear Great Ocean Mother may be playing with us." he grinned.

Sam shook his head. "No."

JayJay turned to his radio, "Then let's teach you, slatsiin."

And later, when the rogue wave hit the boat broadside in the middle of the night, Sam was glad he had that knowledge.


	17. Mayday Call

They'd caught the news report right in the middle of something big, Bobby could tell by the ill-concealed excitement on Allian Sander's face. She wore the expression he called "large-scale loss of life."

This tragedy, whatever it was, must be juicy. They could practically see the stars shining in both her eyes. And damned if Dean didn't think she was all but salivating. The wide-eyed anchorwoman looked terribly concerned as they flashed a photo of six smiling men lined up in front of a painted mural of a king crab. She read the words from the teleprompter:

"... distressed fishing vessel carries a crew of six, including her captain, local legend, JayJay Yazzie."

Dean's eyes went wide. He heard Bobby grunt.

"Also on board is the boat's engineer John "Whitey" Whitestone, deck boss Mike Schaffer, deckhands Roger BeGay and Lars Tsosie, and greenhorn Sam Hetfield. The boat transmitted a mayday call late last night, reporting a location that would have put them right on the edge of the typhoon. At last report, the captain was injured, and the boat was sinking. The following is the audio of the mayday call received by Coast Guard officials from the distressed fishing vessel _Brown-Eyed Girl_ around 11:30 pm last night:

 _"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. Mayday, mayday, mayday. Over."_

Dean and Bobby locked eyes. Sam's voice. They both recognized it immediately. The boy sounded calm to the untrained ear, but to the two men who knew him best, he just sounded like he was terrified and trying to hide it.

" _This is Coast Guard sector Anchorage, channel 1-6. Over."_

Sam again, not acknowledging the Coast Guard's reply.

 _"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. In need of immediate assistance. We have six people on board. Two are injured, including the captain. We are taking on water. We are a 92-foot trap setter, White hull, red house. Need immediate assistance. Mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Over."_

" _Roger, Brown-Eyed Girl, this is Coast Guard sector Anchorage. You're taking on water. Do you have a raft on board? Over."_

" _Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the crabbing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. We are sinking. Repeat. We are sinking. We are a 92-foot trap setter with a white hull and red house. We have two injured crew and are sinking. Request immediate assistance from any vessels in the area. Six people on board. Over."_

"He can't hear them." Dean said softly. "He doesn't know they picked him up."

" _Roger, Brown-Eyed Girl. You're sinking. Do you have a raft on board? Over."_

" _Brown-Eyed Girl, this is Coast Guard Sector Anchorage. Do you copy?"_

" _Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. All stations. This is Coast Guard Sector Anchorage. The United States Coast Guard has received a distress call from fishing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl. The vessel is sinking. Last known location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. Request all vessels keep a sharp lookout and assist if possible. Report all sightings to the United States Coast Guard."_

The anchorwoman continued, trying and failing to hide her excitement. "Officials have determined that the mayday call was issued by the boat's young greenhorn, Sam Hetfield." They zoomed in on the photo that had flashed earlier, and they could see now, that on the very end, stood Sam. He looked about 13 years old as he stood next to the coffeehouse on the docks, hands tucked into his ancient windbreaker and shoulders hunched, looking frozen with his hair whipping across his face. He wore a nervous smile.

"According to local sources, this was Hetfield's first season aboard the Brown-Eyed Girl, and possibly, his first attempt at crabbing altogether. Hetfield is unknown to local crabbers, and the application for his fishing license lists a home address in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. At just 18 years old, Hetfield is the youngest crew member aboard the distressed boat.

"So far, rescue crews have been unable to locate any signs of the ailing vessel and her crew. Stay tuned to local channel 23 for updates as the search continues."

Dean sat still, his world ending, as Allian moved on with glee to a local scandal involving a retired town councilman and his dirty divorce.


	18. No Word

"Office of the United States Coast Guard at Anchorage. How may I direct your call?"

Dean's voice was gruff. "I'm calling for information about a fishing boat - the _Brown-Eyed Girl_. She sent out a mayday call last night. My brother is on board."

"Hold please."

Dean sat on his bed, staring into Bobby's worried eyes. He wasn't sure how they were going to get through these next hours.

"Petty Officer Hillings, how may I help you?"

Dean cleared his throat, "My brother is on board the _Brown-Eyed Girl_. He called in a mayday late last night. Do you have any information besides what we're seeing on the news?"

"Your brother's name?"

"Sam Hetfield."

"Your name?"

"Dean Hetfield."

"Do you have a number where we can reach you?"

Dean gave the number of his cell phone.

"Address?"

"We're from out of town. Right now I'm at the Patriot's Samaritan Hospital in Dutch Harbor."

"Hold please."

Dean gritted his teeth. This wasn't going well. He was about to lose it.

"Mr. Hetfield?"

"Yes."

"This is Lt. Allen Chee. Sam Hetfield is your brother?"

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, we don't have anything new to report at the moment. Your brother's call came in at 11:37 last night. It was a mayday distress call. He cited that two members of the ship's crew, including the captain, were injured and that the boat was sinking. We have units in the air grid-searching the boat's last known location."

"They haven't found anything?"

"Nothing yet. No sign of the boat or its crew. No sign of debris."

Dean choked on the word debris. "So what do we do? What's the next step?"

"Unfortunately sir, all we can do is wait. After that initial call, no other communication was received. Records state the vessel carries a life boat and a handheld VHF radio, but it may have been defective. Usually, a stranded crew can contact on VHF even if the boat goes down. There's nothing pinging from the boat's EPIRB …"

"EPIRB?" Dean interrupted.

"Sorry. The boat was equipped with an Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, which is usually a huge break. The EPIRB can give us a location within three miles, but so far, there's been nothing."

"So, will you call us if you hear anything? Do we have to hear it on the news?"

"Yes sir. We'll call as soon as we know anything. We'll also send someone out there to speak with you in person if that's okay? The more information we have about the boat and her crew, the better. Have you heard from your brother since he's been at sea?"

"He sent a few emails and a picture."

"Okay, Great. That's good. We'd like to see those, if you don't mind. I'll send someone out to the hospital to talk with you today. You work there?"

"I'm a patient here. Sam and I were on vacation. I … I got sick."

"Okay. Noted. You'll be hearing from us soon."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Dean placed the phone carefully on the bed tray and gazed over at his unofficial uncle.

"They don't know anything. They're sending someone here to talk to us. They want to see Sam's emails." He stood up and walked to the window. Suddenly, he threw a punch into the drywall.

Bobby looked away as the tears began falling.


	19. Harsh Truths

"I'm Winston Hillings. We spoke on the phone." The young petty officer extended his hand. "Are you Dean?"

Dean took the hand, nodding. He gestured to Bobby. "This is our uncle, Bobby Singer. And if you'll wait a minute, there's someone else who'd like to be here. The captain's fiance is one of my nurses. Dean sent a quick text, and Penny slipped in a few moments later.

"Pleased to meet you, sir." The officer said as he shook Bobby's hand. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

Bobby nodded.

"Ma'am." The officer nodded. "You're the fiancee of JayJay Yazzie?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Have you heard from him recently?"

"No, not since they sailed. We … we try to limit communication when he's at sea. It's … too hard … the other way."

The officer nodded sympathetically, turning to Dean, "But, you've heard from your brother since he left port?"

Dean nodded, "Emails."

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

Dean turned the laptop around to face the officer.

The young man manipulated the keyboard, reading the text and smiling at the photo. "Your brother is 18?" He questioned, noting Sam's slight stature and the baby face that could still save the kid's life every time Dean was tempted to kill him.

"Yeah." Dean lied. Sam had worked too hard for his money to risk losing it if they found out his real age.

"I'm going to forward these to my email address back at the base if that's okay? It's possible there's something in these that could help us."

"That's fine."

"So, nothing since the storm rolled in, it appears."

"Sam was supposed to be back at the docks on Sunday." Bobby offered up. "I went down there. All the other boats made it back by late Monday night."

Hillings nodded. " _Brown-Eyed Girl_ was the only fishing vessel that issued a mayday in the storm."

He turned the laptop back around to face Dean with a sad smile. "And you're both up from South Dakota?"

"On vacation. I got sick. Sam … he took that job …" His voice hitched.

"He took it to get past the finance office here." Bobby finished angrily. "They wouldn't work with him. Sam has no experience crabbing. He's never even seen an ocean or a sea before this trip." the older hunter finished bitterly. "But Dean would have died. Sam didn't have a choice really. They didn't give him one."

"There's no insurance, I take it?"

"No. We, uh, we travel a lot, you know. Odd jobs." Dean offered.

Hillings nodded. "We're working an organized grid over the area where your brother's boat was last known to be. If the coordinates were right, we'll find something."

Dean looked up, "What are the chances they'll be found alive? And don't bullshit me."

Hillings smiled, "No bullshit. The longer we search with no sign of life or debris the higher the odds become, I'm afraid. But the boat is well-equipped with emergency locator equipment. Yazzie has a reputation as being a safe, no-nonsense pilot." He addressed Penny. "He's always brought his crews home safe and sound."

She smiled as a single tear rolled down her face. Bobby placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"But you won't call off the search, right?" She asked, "Until you find something?"

"Unless we search the whole grid without finding anything and the amount of time passes that they could … could survive in the water, we'll keep looking."

"How long could they survive?" Bobby had to know.

Hillings hesitated.

"Please?" Penny pleaded. "We have to know."

"If they made it into a boat and they're wearing survival suits, they could last a few days." He paused again.

"And if not?" Dean prompted.

"If they went in the water - minutes."

The younger boy blinked, his face going deathly white, "Minutes?"

"Sadly, yes. Hypothermia."

"But Sam called in his mayday four days ago?"

"They had a lifeboat. They could still be alive. Nobody is giving up on them. We're not even certain that they went down. With the exception of your brother, everyone on board was a seasoned fisherman. They know how to survive. And Yazzie will look out for his greenhorn. That you can count on. Something else to think about: They could have been picked up by a passing vessel. We could get the word any day now."

"But they'd have called the Coast Guard, right? If they'd rescued the crew of a sinking ship?"

"Well, they're supposed to, but radios go out - especially in storms like the one we had this past weekend." He looked down at Dean. "Don't count them out. We won't. Not until there's absolutely no reason to go on."

"So is everyone who's lost at sea found?" Penny asked.

Hillings shook his head. "No ma'am. I'm sorry. Sometimes, regardless of how hard we try, we never recover the bodies of people lost in the Bering Sea."


	20. Blindsided

Bobby was numb. He was sure nothing else could shock him.

But as he switched to the news channel, Allian Sanders proved him wrong. She faced the camera, eyes shining.

" _A new, poignant development came to light earlier this week when it was learned that missing fisherman, Sam Hetfield, has an ailing older brother who is currently recovering from brain surgery at Dutch Harbor's own Patriot's Samaritan Hospital."_

Dean's gasp would have been audible across the hall. He raged. "What the fuck?"

 _"According to sources, 18-year-old Hetfield and his 20-year-old brother, Dean, were vacationing in Alaska when the older boy suffered a seizure. It was soon learned that he suffered from a brain tumor and would need emergency surgery."_

"Where the fuck did she ... ?" Dean's jaw dropped.

" _Younger brother Sam tried and failed to make financial arrangements with the hospital's financial administrator, Hazel Moore. In a desperate bid to force the hospital to schedule his brother's life-saving operation, the recent high school graduate from Sioux Falls, SD, signed on board the ill-fated fishing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl as a greenhorn. Immediately upon being hired on, Hetfield presented the hospital with a copy of his contract that promised a small cut of the boat's projected take. Only then would Moore relent and give doctors the okay to schedule his brother's surgery."_

"Freakin' trainwreck." Bobby breathed..

" _While Moore could not be reached for comment, our Channel 23 news team was able to speak with the hospital's administrator, Dr. Charles Cly._

' _It has never been hospital policy to deny a patient treatment that could save his life simply because he is uninsured. I assure you, I am looking into this accusation personally, and if I find that treatment was denied for inability to pay, I will take corrective action.'_

 _Whether Cly's corrective action means termination for Moore isn't clear, but local fisherman are up in arms tonight citing too little, too late._

' _It's the biggest pile of bull**** I ever heard,"_ said a ruddy-looking guy who was pictured standing on the docks. " _Forcing a kid with no crabbing experience to choose between the Bering Sea and his brother's life is nothing short of criminal. If JayJay did go down, I hope they hold that woman on murder charges.'_

 _'That storm that passed through here last weekend - something like that is terrifying even to us old-timers. We're talking 40-foot waves and 100 mph winds. To put an inexperienced kid through that just because he didn't want his brother to die - well that ain't right. I hope she can sleep at night. I'm sure Hetfield's family ain't.'_

 _The younger Hetfield's boat, Brown-Eyed Girl was last heard from late Saturday night when the greenhorn issued a mayday call to notify the Coast Guard that members of her crew were injured and the boat was taking on water._

 _The search continues for the vessel and her crew. And back at Patriot's Samaritan hospital, one brother awaits word on the condition of the other, who, it's feared, may have sacrificed his life for $6,000 and a miscommunication between hospital administrators."_

"I'm gonna vomit." Dean moaned.

"Vomit ain't gonna wash this foul taste away." Bobby disagreed sadly. "Gasoline maybe."


	21. John

_**Author's Note**_ _: It's always darkest before the dawn._

John groaned, shifting in the stale, rumpled bed.

His head hurt like a bitch, and he tried to smother his groans so as not to wake the woman who slumbered beside him. Her name was Donna. Or Dana. Diana, maybe? He'd picked her up at a local bar where he'd gone after Jonesy had died - the ninth victim of the sea hag. John had lost his friend and all his gear, including his phone, in the epic battle against the vengeful deity Sedna.

She'd won. Taking first all of Jonesy's fingers one-by-one, before pulling him overboard into a churning sea.

John hadn't cried. Instead, he'd buried his feelings beneath a few bottles of whiskey, picked up the girl, and laid low for a week.

He briefly wondered how his sons were making out, but they were big boys. He couldn't summon the energy to be worried.

He glanced sideways at the woman beside him, noting that she was out cold. He shoved himself to his feet and padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a leak. On the way back to the coffeemaker, he flicked on the small television, tuning it to the local news and rolling his eyes heavenward. It was that wild-eyed woman who always looks like she was gunning for promotion.

" _And on the local fishing front, the exhaustive search for the ill-fated crabbing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl officially ended today as the Coast Guard suspended all search efforts to locate the boat and her crew. The saga began late Saturday night as a mayday call was received from the 92-foot vessel, citing injuries to two of the ship's crew and a sinking boat."_

John shook his head. Poor bastards. More victims of the sea hag, no doubt. He lit his cigarette, shaking the match out and dropping it in the sink.

" _After the initial distress call, no further communication was received from the vessel that carried a crew of six, including popular local captain, JayJay Yazzie. Yazzie was the youngest crab-boat captain currently sailing out of Dutch Harbor, and on board his trap setter - Sam Hetfield - the youngest greenhorn of the season."_

John frowned, stepping back to look at the screen.

They flashed the photo Sam had sent Dean - the one where he stood on deck in his boat's uniform, holding the world's biggest king crab and looking horrified.

" _Hetfield made headlines recently when it was learned he had no crabbing experience and had only signed aboard the boat to save the life of his ailing brother, Dean, who was undergoing surgery for a brain tumor and whom a local hospital had refused to treat without pre-payment."_

John's cigarette dropped from his lips as a photo of Dean in a hospital bed flashed on-screen.

" _The two brothers, originally from Sioux Falls, SD, were on vacation in Alaska when the older boy suffered a sudden seizure. He was later diagnosed with a brain tumor that required immediate surgery. Hetfield's decision to sign on board Brown-Eyed Girl for the 1996 king crabbing season was made in the interests of securing the pre-payment required by the hospital's financial administrator, Hazel Moore. According to Dean Hetfield, who is uninsured, Moore had refused to allow the hospital to provide him with life-saving treatment until his younger brother produced proof of a steady paycheck. Moore has since been fired._

 _Aside from Yazzie and Hetfield, the crew of the doomed fishing vessel included engineer Whitey Whitestone, deck boss, Mike Shaffer, and deckhands Lars Tsosie and Roger Begay._

 _With this latest turn of events, the fishing vessel is presumed to have sunk at sea with all hands lost."_

A slideshow began, individual photos of each of the lost sailors surrounded by family and friends. The voice over recapped their careers. In the background - the song "One More Day With You" played softly.

Jacy "JayJay" Yazzie was the youngest skipper ever to pilot a crab boat out of Dutch Harbor. Yazzie was only 27 years old at the time of his death. A familiar face on local docks for the past ten years, he had a reputation as a fair and honest captain who had a sixth sense for finding the biggest and most bountiful Alaskan king crab. Yazzie leaves behind a fiancee, Penny.

John "Whitey" Whitestone was 62 and engineer aboard the doomed fishing vessel. Crabbing was a second career for Whitestone who spent the first forty years of his adult life as a boat mechanic in California. This season marked his ninth in the crabbing industry. John leaves behind four children, Adell, Joanie, Carson and Lee, seven grandchildren and one great-grandchild.

Michael John Schaffer, Jr. was deck boss aboard _Brown-Eyed Girl_. At 44 years old, Schaeffer had a long and reputable history of crabbing out of Dutch Harbor. He signed on with the ill-fated vessel seven years ago and returned as deck boss every season since. Schaeffer leaves behind two teenage boys, Stratton and Levi, and a father, Mike, Sr.

Lars Tsosie was born and raised in Dutch Harbor. He entered the crabbing industry as a young man, as greenhorn on his uncle's boat, _Dena's Dream_. Lars joined the crew of _Brown-Eyed Girl_ as deckhand in 1990, He leaves behind Mary, his wife of 38 years. He was 59.

Roger BeGay was 36 years old. A construction worker-turned-crab-fisherman. Roger was originally from New Mexico. He relocated with his company to Seattle five years ago. Once there, he fell in love with the sea. He quit his steady job of seven years to try his hand at crabbing and never looked back. Roger is survived by Caroline, his wife of 9 years, and three young children - Lindsey, Raleigh and Dalton.

Sam Hetfield was the youngest fisherman aboard Brown-Eyed Girl and the youngest greenhorn sailing from Dutch Harbor this season. Originally from Sioux Falls, SD, Sam was only 18 and a recent high school graduate. He was in Alaska on vacation with his brother. A dog lover and self-proclaimed "geek" who enjoyed technology and books, he leaves behind his older brother, Dean, his father, John, and his uncle - Robert Singer of Sioux Falls.

Last flashed an old photo of Sam and Dean with their arms around each other, leaning against the Impala outside Bobby's salvage yard. John remembered that picture because he'd taken it. He had backed up to get a wide enough shot to include the car, and he'd stumbled over an old muffler. He'd almost fallen and Bobby had snorted and called him an idjit. Both boys had bent double laughing. As they'd straightened up, still hysterical, John had snapped the pic. It was a frozen moment of hilarity between brothers, and John had no idea where they'd gotten it.

And then the song ended and the anchorwoman sounded legitimately sad as they panned across the group photo taken on the dock the day _Brown-Eyed Girl_ departed. "Rest in peace, JayJay, Mike, Whitey, Lars, Rog, and Sam. May the wind be always at your backs."

John stared for a moment, stunned, before stumbling over to grab Donna's purse. He fished her phone from its depths and called his oldest son.


	22. Phone Call From Dad

"Hello?"

John winced. Dean's voice sounded wrecked.

"Dean. Son. What the hell's going on?"

Silence.

"Dean."

"Don't call me son. Don't you dare."

"Dean … Sam … I just saw the news."

"Did you? Because we've been calling you for weeks. Sam was calling you. He needed you. Where the fuck were you?"

John swallowed. "Jonesy. Jonesy died. He died, Dean. In my arms. I was … coping."

Silence.

"Please son. Tell me what's going on. What's happened to your brother?"

"You heard the report. He's dead."

John's breath caught. "He … it can't be. That can't be right."

"No? Well it is. Sammy's dead. He drowned, or maybe he froze to death in the fucking Bering Sea. Who knows? They haven't found any trace of anything or anybody."

John couldn't speak. He could only try to inhale - sharp, painful pants that sounded too much like sobs.

"I can't do this right now. Bobby needs me."

"Bobby! Son …"

But Dean cut him off. "I told you. Don't call me that. Ever. Sam was your son too, and you weren't there for him. If you'd been here with your fucking fake credit cards, Sam would have never gotten on that boat. He did it to save me - to save me because you couldn't be bothered. Don't you come here. I swear. If you come here, I'll kill you."

The line went dead.


	23. Anguish

Dean held his discharge papers in his hands. He was being released with a clean bill of health.

Funny.

He couldn't look at them. Couldn't read them. Could barely sign them. Couldn't do anything really. Couldn't get his feet under him, that's for sure.

He felt burned, like he was scarred all over, with most of the damage where his heart used to be.

"Dean. Son. Let's go. Get you out of here. Hanging around here ain't doin' either of us any good." Bobby said gently, wrestling monolithic demons of his own.

Dean looked up, and the older man had to look away at what waited behind the boy's eyes. Bobby had witnessed a lot in his life, but he'd never seen pain that deep.

Dean looked broken. Empty. Like if the wind took a notion, it could blow him straight away.

Sam had been the other half of Dean. Always. For as far back as Bobby could remember, they'd come as a matched set. From the first time two small, hungry, grimy kids had huddled on his steps swaying in the bitter winter wind, they'd been connected - Dean's arm firmly around the smaller boy's shoulders - Sam's hand tucked snugly into Dean's pocket.

There was no Dean if there was no Sam.

And truthfully, the older man wondered just how long the boy would make it before calling in his own chips. There was no doubt in Bobby's mind that he'd be holding a hunter's burial before the year was out.

Hell, maybe he'd toss himself on the pyre. It sure as hell couldn't hurt any worse than this.

"Dean." He prompted gently.

The boy stood up, looking around him like he wasn't sure what his next move should be. He reached for Sam's laptop and ran his hand across the top briefly before laying it gently in the bottom of his duffle. He lifted the letter and held it, unsure.

It was the last letter he'd ever get from Sam. It was the last time Sammy would ever call him a jerk. The last time he'd razz on him about his eating habits. It was the last sample of anything Dean would ever hold that featured his brother's near-perfect handwriting.

Because just like everything else Sam had ever attempted, his penmanship was honed to a sharp point. Refined. Organized. Right.

Everything Sam had ever done, he'd done right - from his school work to stitching Dean up time after time after the monster of the day had hurt him, to finding a way to save his brother's life when he was scared and all alone and facing impossible odds.

Dean would miss that.

No more precise Sammy stitches - perfectly placed to reduce scarring.

No more goofy, lopsided grin.

No more annoyingly floppy bangs to hide his baby brother's feelings when he was too hurt or too embarrassed to show them.

Sam had never fooled him. That hair was necessary for an emotional kid like Sam to survive in a household with a man like their father.

Who would worry about Dean now? Who would bandage his cuts and obsess over how many beers he'd had? Dad?

Dean snorted.

Right.

Dad.

Should he call his father back?

Dean picked up his phone from the bed tray and tried to hit redial.

He brought up his photo album instead, and suddenly, there was his brother's face grinning back at him.

Dean caught his breath. It was recent. Like within days. He recognized the crappy bedspread from the motel.

And Sam's face. Oh God, his face.

He looked so happy.

Dean fell to his knees.

He screamed his anguish to walls that had never cared.


	24. Breaking News

"It's time to go, Dean. We'll miss the flight if we don't leave now." Bobby hated to rush the kid, but all the boy wanted to do was sit and stare into space for hours at a time. The older man stood and slung his carry-on onto his shoulder.

"Dean."

The boy looked up at him with ravaged eyes. "I can't." He said, simply, a single tear trailing a wet line down a cheek that had aged 10 years in two-week's time.

"Dean …"

"I can't, Bobby. There's … there's no body. No closure. I can't visit him. I can't talk to him. Can't sit at his grave and drink a beer." He begged with haunted eyes for the old hunter to understand. He shrugged. "I can't. Can't leave. Not if Sam can't. You go. I'll be alright."

Now there was a lie if Bobby'd ever heard one. "You ain't alright, ya idjit. And you ain't gonna be alright for a long time. There's no way I'm leaving you here alone. You stay. I stay." He let his bag fall to the floor of the grim motel room.

###

" _Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Glacier Queen relaying a mayday for a fishing vessel crippled and adrift off our port side. Location 59.5 North, 162 West."_

 _This is Coast Guard sector Anchorage. Channel 1-6. Over._

" _Anchorage, we have visual on a fishing vessel crippled and adrift at 59.5 N, 162 W. Relaying a mayday. Will attempt to assist."_

" _Roger, Glacier Queen. You're relaying a distress call for a disabled fishing vessel and will attempt to assist. Can you make out a name?_

" _Affirmative, Anchorage. It's the Brown-Eyed Girl."_

" _Copy, Glacier Queen. Did you say Brown-Eyed Girl? Over."_

" _Indeed I did. Looks like she weathered the storm after all."_

" _Glacier Queen, do you have signs of life? Over."_

" _Not sure yet. We're launching our skiff now. They have signal flags up and waving. We'll keep you informed."_

###

Dean stared at the television with glazed eyes. The sitcom was stupid. Stupid people acting like they had lives that weren't stupid, all set to stupid music that made him want to cut his own throat.

Or maybe that was the whiskey. Or maybe it was … other things.

Either way, he was finally decidedly numb, and it would have felt good if ...

Well, Dean couldn't imagine ever feeling good again.

Not even close.

And then there was Allian Sanders staring at him from the screen, eyes wide and excitement palpable.

"Balls!" Bobby exploded, reaching for the remote.

" _This is Allian Sanders with breaking news. Earlier today, missing Alaskan crab boat, Brown-Eyed Girl, was located, crippled and adrift, near Quinhagak."_

At the table in the bleak motel room, Dean sucked in a breath, one hand with a death grip on his whiskey bottle, the other suddenly grasping Bobby's arm. Hard.

" _The 92-foot crabbing vessel was towed to port, still bearing its quota of king crab. Five members of its crew were miraculously rescued, including Captain JayJay Yazzie, Whitey Whitestone, Roger BeGay, Lars Tsosie, and Mike Schaffer. Only the boat's greenhorn, Sam Hetfield, remains missing."_

They cut to excerpts from the survivors, huddled in blankets in what looked like a hospital waiting room:

" _Sam gave his life so that others might live."_ JayJay explained _. "For someone so young, he had a gift for understanding the sea and the ways of Inuit People. I am honored to have known him."_

Bobby winced. The noise coming out of Dean didn't sound human. He grabbed the boy's hand and held on, not caring that tears ran down his own face like water.

" _He was a good kid, a real good kid."_ Mike's broken voice filled the impending silence. " _He saved my life our second day out. Then, at the end, he just … he went over the side willingly, like he was on a mission. He had a hairbrush … and he just tossed me this lopsided grin …"_ Mike had to turn away then.

The two hunters exchanged a stricken look.

Allian continued, " _According to reports, it appeared young Hetfield may have been overcome by hypothermia and was disoriented when he grabbed a hairbrush and threw himself into the sea."_

" _His survival suit didn't fit him. We had a hard time finding things to fit him right. He was so small."_ Lars explained. " _The cold was getting to him. The cold out here - it ain't nothing like you ever experienced. You have to feel it to believe it. Sam couldn't … he just … it got to him at the end."_

Rog spoke up. " _It was his first time out, but you'd never know it. Kid had endurance. He worked like an experienced deckhand. You never had to show him anything twice. He picked it up right away."_

Mike cut in, " _If he'd just waited … if we'd just realized in time what he was going to do. We were sinking - waves overtaking the boat. It was the roughest seas I've ever seen. JayJay had taken a metal post through his ribs. Lars broke his arm trying to disengage the lifeboat, but launching the inflatable in that storm - that was just a joke. But not ten minutes after Sam went over, everything was just … quiet."_ The older man's face collapsed and his voice shook. It was difficult to watch. " _It isn't fair that we came back without him."_ He got up and walked off-camera.

They cut back to Allian.

"A search for the youngest crew member of _Brown-Eyed Girl_ was re-launched earlier today at the new coordinates, though hope is dim. Stay tuned to local Channel 23 for updates."


	25. Hope

Dean hesitated outside the door of JayJay's hospital room in Quinhagak. Laughter and lightheartedness reverberated through the heavy wood of the door, and he almost turned back.

Maybe he couldn't do this.

But he thought of Sam then, and of how much his brother had liked the young crab boat captain. He remembered that they'd treated Sam well - given him a chance to prove himself. And he realized he needed this.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room was so packed with people, it took a few moments for anyone to even realize he was there. He stood silently studying the young guy in the bed. This would be JayJay, and around the room, Dean thought he recognized the rest of the crew. Of course there were also friends and girlfriends and wives and even a few kids sprinkled in for good measure, and suddenly Dean was tongue-tied, feeling out-of-place in this room where people were celebrating life.

JayJay noticed him first. The young man smiled. "I am guessing you are not here to take my blood pressure."

Dean tried to smile, or for what passed as a smile these days. "No, I guess not."

"You are looking for someone." It was spoken as a statement and not a question.

Dean cleared his throat, "I'm Dean. Dean Hetfield."

The room fell silent as a look of unspeakable pain passed over the captain's face. "Sam's Dean."

"Yeah. Sam is … was … my kid brother." He stepped aside as people began filtering from the room until only the five members of the crew were left. JayJay and Mike were the only ones who could look at him. The silence grew awkward.

Dean cleared his throat again, "I … Sammy sent emails. You gave him a chance. You treated him good. He told me. I, uh, wanted to say thanks … you know. For that." His voice hitched.

JayJay's smile had gone away. "Come." He gestured to the seat beside the bed. "Sit. I am honored to meet the brother of Sam Hetfield."

Dean moved forward and sat.

"How are you?" JayJay asked. "Sam worried over you every hour."

Dean blinked at that. "Fine. I'm good. I have Sam to thank for that, I guess."

Mike cleared his throat. "Sammy, he was a fine greenhorn. The best I ever worked with." His voice broke.

Dean swallowed, looking down. He could do this. He could get through this. "I, uh, I just wanted to ask … " He stopped, his voice shaking.

"I have Sam's money."

Dean looked up startled, "What?"

"The crab. They should have all been dead. Somehow, they were not. Sam's earnings. I have them for you."

"Oh. No. That's not what I … "

"It is okay. He would want me to make sure his brother received his share. I can …"

"Look, I don't give a shit about the money, okay?" Dean barked.

Awkward silence again.

Dean sighed. "At the … at the end, I mean. Sammy … was he scared? Was he hurt? Did he ... did he ask for me?" He stared pleadingly at JayJay. "Please? I have to know?"

JayJay's face relaxed. "I see where Sam learned his caring ways. You ask about your brother's welfare, and I will tell you honestly. The last time I saw Sam, he was smiling. Energized. He had just called in the mayday and returned to the deck to help with the launching of the inflatable."

"And what a joke that was." Lars chimed in dejectedly.

JayJay agreed. "The winds - they were not amenable to launching an inflatable life raft. The sea goddess was very angry that night."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about the sea goddess?"

"I know that she saved Sam's life our second day out. Sam saved Mike's life. Sedna saved Sam."

"Saved him?"

"My men," JayJay gestured to his crew with a smile. "They do not believe me when I tell the old stories, but she was there. I saw her. Sam saw her. She lifted him up so he could grab the railing with both hands. She calmed the sea so Whitey and Lars could pull him in. She saved him."

Dean stared, "Why would she do that?"

"Your brother was a man by heart. But he was still a child by years - only sixteen, he told us. The goddess - she looks after the children. Especially, she looks after children whose fathers are not fathers."

Dean snorted. Well, that was one she had right. But then he wondered.

"So, if she saved him once …" His eyes suddenly brightened with hope, and he stood up.

JayJay looked startled.

"Dean." Mike stood up. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't hold onto false hope. Skip's stories are … well ..." He glanced at JayJay apologetically. "Just … Sammy's gone, Dean. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But he's gone."

Dean blinked. He nodded. "I just came here to say thanks. Sam … he liked working with all of you. Thank you." He stepped outside and headed for the exit.

###

Outside, Dean took a deep breath to steady himself.

She had saved Sam - saved him at least once. She wasn't angry with him. Wasn't trying to hurt him. He had jumped overboard to try and calm her, of that much Dean was certain. He glanced at his phone. He still had about 40 minutes before he had to meet Bobby for lunch.

He headed for the small, rocky beach that lay five minutes from the hospital.

For the first time in days, Dean felt hopeful.


	26. Found

He stepped onto the beach with disappointment. It looked so unforgiving.

Dean had never seen a real beach in person, but this … this wasn't what he'd pictured. The flat expanse of land that lay before him seemed to stretch on endlessly, but there were only small patches of sand. Mostly, there were just rocks of all sizes - big, little, boulder-like. Dean began navigating them, thinking.

The boat had been found - inexplicably - just about a mile off shore right here. No one could account for the odd location, but suddenly Dean thought he knew. There was a hospital with a trauma center only five minutes from this beach. It was the only one in the area.

And a boy who'd been in arctic waters for days, well, he'd need trauma care. Dean clambered up onto the tallest rock and stood up, gazing up and down the shoreline. To the left, there was nothing.

To the right, there was a flash of movement and color, and Dean's breath caught.

There were people moving up that way. People, and a bright splash of orange that could have been a survival suit. They were too far away to tell.

The sudden flare of hope made his chest hurt.

He jumped down and began moving in that direction as quickly as possible.

###

"Skip, you shouldn't have done that." Mike chastised his captain. It was uncharacteristic of him, but the look of hope on Dean's face when he'd heard that the sea goddess had saved Sam … That was just too painful to see.

JayJay gazed at him in silence, but the captain's thoughts were miles away. "She will bring him onto land." He said, thinking out loud.

"What?"

"The goddess, Sedna. If she has Sam, she will bring him to land and leave him where help can find him."

"JayJay …"

The young Navajo looked up. "It is okay that you don't embrace my beliefs or the ways of The People, Mike. But you should understand that there are things that you do not understand. Our "stories" as you call them are based on fact. Some have strayed far from what once took place - but others - others are not so far-fetched that they should be considered impossibilities. Sam saw this. I see it." He smiled. "And one day, maybe something so miraculous will happen, that you will see it also."

Mike gazed at his captain, trying not to let anger encompass him. The look on Sam's brother's face after he'd listened to JayJay spout off about some sea goddess who might or might not be looking after Sam …

Mike was worried for the boy. What if he acted on that bullshit?

He turned without a word and strode out the door, heading for the beach. He just needed a minute to clear his head.

###

Dean was close enough to see that it was two people on the beach. One was stretched out on the sand. The other sitting beside him, knees drawn up. It was a girl, and she was singing. He felt his heart drop into his boots.

Just a couple of teenagers then - making out on the beach.

He stopped trying to navigate the rocky shoreline and stood panting. Damn. He was out of shape from these last few weeks.

He stared at the kids, debating whether he should continue, and had just decided to turn back when the girl stood up and beckoned him closer, and Dean was close enough to see …

She had no fingers on either hand.

###

JayJay sat back and closed his eyes. Mike was angry with him, but that was okay. He would come around in time. JayJay understood that, of his crew, it was Mike who had been closest to Sam.

JayJay heard the rest of his crew shifting. He smiled and nodded without opening his eyes as they said their goodbyes and offered promises to be back after he'd "caught some shut-eye."

Some of the white man's phrases still made no sense to JayJay. And he wondered that they questioned the stories of his people. He chuckled.

###

Dean was running.

Well, he was running as fast as he could with a billion fucking rocks in his way. He could see the girl better now, but the figure who was stretched out on the sand was mostly blocked from Dean's view by … what else … rocks. She had long black hair and violet eyes, and she was probably one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen - or girl, actually. She looked to still be in her teens, and in Dean's experience, and he'd had plenty, she was a clear 9 on a 1 to 10 scale. And then she smiled, and that shot her right over the edge into stunning.

Dean was within feet of the couple now, and the girl smiled. "We've been waiting for you. He needs help."

Dean scrambled over one last boulder and looked down. He sobbed.

"Sammy!" He dropped to his knees, his voice choked with tears. "Sammy!" He gathered the boy up and held him like he would never let him go.

"Come on, man. Talk to me." Dean begged. He placed his brother back on the sand and shook him gently. "Sammy. It's okay. I'm here."

Sam's skin was the color of the sky on a stormy day. He lay quiet and still, not shivering. His hair was dry and tendrils of dried seaweed rose around the back of his head and reached across his face like a living thing - a sea creature intent on embracing him. Dean brushed it away.

"Sam! Come on, man." He felt for a pulse on the boy's neck and grinned when he detected the faint, steady flow of blood through Sam's veins.

"How long has he been out here?" Dean barked, glancing up.

But the girl was gone. The soft sand where she'd stood undisturbed by footprints.

"Sammy!"

At last, Sam's eyes fluttered open. He gazed at Dean without focusing.

"Sammy. It's Dean. I'm here, kid. It's going to be okay. Sam, can you hear me?"

"Cold." Dean had to lean low to hear the words his brother spoke. "Dean. So … cold."

The older boy grinned. "Yeah, well, laying on an arctic beach for days will do that to a guy. But we're gonna fix it, Sammy. Let's get you warm. Come on."

Dean wrestled Sam's chest and arms out of the survival suit and took off his own warm shirt and jacket, placing them on the kid. He left them unbuttoned as he pulled Sam's bare chest to his own and picked him up effortlessly. "One warm hospital room coming up, Sammy. Just hang on for me, please."

###

Mike was picking his way carefully along the rock-encrusted beach, staring out at the sea and pondering the ridiculousness of JayJay's sea goddess story, when he heard a shout. He looked down the beach and saw a man running toward him, another man in his arms. It looked like they were in trouble. Mike turned to make his way laboriously toward them.

###

Dean's chest felt like it was going to explode, and his vision was beginning to gray out around the edges. His recent surgery and weeks of bed rest were taking its toll. He needed to stop, to rest for just a minute, but he wouldn't let himself. Sammy needed help, and he needed it now. If Bobby was just there with him, they could take turns and relay Sam to the hospital like that.

Dean had never wished so hard for another warm body in his life.

That's when he spotted the man walking alone up the beach. He shouted, and the man turned and started toward him.

###

Mike picked his way around the last large rock and froze. The man stumbling toward him was Sam's brother. Tears of what looked like pain streamed down his face, and he looked one step away from collapse. And in his arms …


	27. Dawn Breaks

Mike was uncomprehending at first. "Dean … what …?" Then he glanced down at the man in Dean's arms, noting the waistband of the yellow pants peeking out from under the bright orange of a survival suit.

Longish, dark hair.

Slight frame.

Mike's breath caught in his throat as his eyes met Dean's disbelievingly. "Sam?" He asked incredulously. "Is that Sammy?"

"Help him! Please! Can't … he needs the hospital …" Dean choked out, falling to his knees. "Take him. Go! Please!"

Mike's eyes became saucers as he reached down and plucked the boy from his brother's arms. He shook him gently. Stared into his blue face. "Is he alive? Sammy?"

"Cold …" Sam breathed.

"Holy shit!" Mike shouted. He took off running.

Dean collapsed, falling face-forward onto the sand.

###

"Help! We need help here!" Mike cried as he stormed through the doors of the emergency room and right past a grizzled man in a battered baseball cap.

"What is it?" A nurse came running, pushing a gurney.

"Hypothermia! He's been in the water for days! Help him!"

She glanced at Mike, "Who is he? What happened to him?" She asked, getting Sam settled onto the stretcher.

"His name is Sammy Hetfield. He was on the boat! He washed up on shore! His brother …" Mike had to stop for breath, and suddenly the grizzled man in the hat was there, grabbing Sam by his chin and turning his head so he could see his face. He looked up at Mike like he didn't believe what he was seeing.

"His brother … found him … on the … beach. I think … the brother needs help too!"

She nodded, pulling Sam away. She shouted at the desk at she pushed past. "Call 911! And page Dr. Hage!"

Bobby grabbed Mike by his shoulders. "His brother. Where is he? Where's Dean? What happened to him?"

Mike was too depleted to wonder who this man was or how he knew Dean's name.

"Down on the beach. He was running … with Sam. He … just handed him off to me. I think … I think he collapsed!"

Bobby whirled, "Balls!" he glanced after Sam, torn.

"Go." Mike said. "Go help Dean. I was … on … on the boat with Sammy. I'll … look after him."

Bobby nodded, turned, and shot out the doors.

###

"Beach, my ass." Bobby growled at his first look at the stretch of shoreline where Dean was lying somewhere, apparently unconscious. He stepped onto the sand and began climbing over rocks.

Twenty minutes later, Bobby was calling John Winchester everything but decent when he rounded yet another boulder and found Dean, flat on his face in the sand.

"Balls!"

He knelt down and rolled the boy over. "Dean! Son! Can you hear me?"

Dean groaned.

Bobby sighed, "Ya damned idjit. Don't do that shit to an old man!" He slapped the boy on the cheek. Hard.

Dean came to swinging.

"Easy! It's me. You alright?"

Dean groaned, "What the hell happened?"

"You tell me. Sam washed up down here?"

Dean's eyes went huge. "Sam!" He struggled to his feet. "Did he …"

"He's there. They got him. One of the guys from the boat ran in carryin' him."

Dean grinned, grabbing Bobby up in a bear hug. "He's alive, Bobby! Sammy's alive!"


	28. John's Contribution

Sam is alive. He's alive, and he's off that beach - that cursed beach she'd dragged him onto after he'd managed to calm her fury.

Everything about her is beautiful and fragile. And she's like one of those high-maintenance flowers that Bobby has tried, and failed repeatedly, to grow, Orchids, Sam thinks they're called. And getting those flowers to bloom and to turn their faces to the sun and smile … well … that's what it's like trying to help her.

She is frail, yet strong at the same time - betrayed by her father - and boy, can Sam empathize. She is both young and old, and had she been human, or had Sam been monster, he is certain he would be feeling the first pangs of puppy love.

She is angry at first, but then she sees he wants only to help, and she stops trying to drag him to the sea floor and drown him in the frigid, salty water that tastes of raw fish and tears. But by then it's too late. His fragile, human lungs have given up. He floats, unmoving, just above the sandy sea floor - his eyes open, a gentle smile still on his youthful face.

And then he's on the beach, and he can see gray, stormy sky above him.

And now he's here, and wrapped in Dean's comforting arms, his chest pressed against Dean's warm and beating heart, and she's gone. And there is nowhere else on God's Earth he'd rather be.

Because Dean is okay. He's going to be fine. And maybe Sam will be fine too and things will go back to normal.

Well, Winchester normal.

Because Sam hasn't come this far just to die - hasn't suffered up on that beach for days, shivering until he couldn't any longer. And when it got too bad, she leaned over him and breathed warmth and hope into his failing body. And she hadn't done that for nothing either.

For three days and two nights she'd tried to keep him alive.

Sam was damned if he'd die now.

She'd tried too hard and Dean had been through too much for Sam to just give in and let go.

Morning would come, and when it did, He would be there to see its pink sky and to feel its warmth on his frozen face.

He would.

It felt impossible, but he struggled to take another breath.

###

"He's hypothermic." Dr. Hage told them. They were all there, gathered in JayJay's room. Dean, Bobby, JayJay, Mike, Whitey, Lars, Roger and Penny, everyone waiting to hear Sam's fate. "We're warming his blood slowly, and he seems to be responding well, though I'm honestly not sure how."

"So he's going to be okay?" Dean clarified.

Dr. Hage nodded. "I think so. Obviously, he's dehydrated and hungry. And we'll keep a look out for pneumonia caused by water in his lungs, but right now, it's looking real good. He's pinking up just like we'd hoped and responding well to the treatment."

"What about his fingers?" Dean asked.

The doctor looked confused, "What do you mean?"

"Does he … uh … are they all there?"

The doctor paused, not sure what Dean was asking. "Yes. His hands are fine."

"When can we see him?" Bobby asked, his poor hat just a ruined relic in his twisting hands.

Dr. Hage smiled. "In a bit. Let us get him warm and settled and on some painkillers, and then you can go in. I'll have the nurse come get you when it's time. Also, there's a news crew out here?"

"No." Dean said firmly. "They don't see Sam unless he says so."

He nodded. "I'll have security send them away."

The doctor went on his way and the room erupted into cheers. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and walked off to the window where he could cry without feeling like an ass in front of everyone. He felt Bobby's warm hand on his shaking shoulder and placed his own over it.

Thank God for Bobby.

A sudden wave of dizziness came over him, and his right knee buckled. He would have gone down if not for Bobby and Lars on his left. They caught him under the shoulders and eased him into the only chair in the room. Dean sat with his face in his hands, struggling for control and feeling blessed and cursed at the same time as Bobby stepped inside the small bathroom to fetch a cup of water.

That's when the door opened and John staggered in.

And he was obviously drunk. He brushed into Mike, who made a move to steady him then stepped away when the fumes assaulted him.

"Who are you?" Mike demanded, concerned.

"Get your damned hands off me!" John slurred. "Sam is mine … "

Dean shot to his feet at the familiar voice and took a step forward. "You're not getting anywhere near him, you hear me? Where have you been for the last three weeks? Sam was all alone here. He needed you. You have something to say to my brother? You tell it to me. Is that clear?" He blinked as the room tilted.

And before anyone could react, John stepped forward and downed his son with a roundhouse punch to the face that knocked Dean into the wall. The younger boy crumbled like a folded flag. Mike and Rog were on John instantly, Lars kneeling to help Dean, but before they could pull him away, he shot a booted foot into his son's ribs, causing Dean's breath to leave him in a pained whoosh.

"You don't tell me what to do with my son. You hear me? Sam's mine! I'll tell him whatever I damned well please! I'll treat him how I damned well please. Damn kid was always a pain in my ass, and I came to tell him that. Lazy … stubborn and soft. Nothing but a damned disappointment. Kid needs a beating, that's what. Where's that boat's captain? He'll tell you how worthless Sam is. Ask him." In his drunken stupor, John lost track of where he was. He wrestled free of Mike and Lars and reached down to unbuckle his belt. In one quick movement, he whisked it free and folded it in half. He stood gazing bleary-eyed around the room. "Where's Sam? Where is that little shit? I'll teach him, letting people think he's dead … always such a damned drama queen. I'll teach him about dead. I'll make him wish he was, that's what." He stood breathing heavily, unaware of the sudden hatred that surrounded him on all sides.

After a shocked silence, JayJay's calm voice filled the room.

"You are a despicable excuse for a father."

John turned to face the bed, his mouth drawing up into a snarl. "What did you just say to me?"

But JayJay was unmoved, "I said you are despicable. A father who beats his son with a belt, who punches and kicks his injured son - that man is not a father. That is a man who has no rights to his children."

"You miserable son of a bitch. Who do you think you are?"

"I am Sam's captain, the skipper of _Brown-Eyed Girl_ , and I would defend Sam against these lies you tell with my dying breath."

John snorted, "You try living with the little shit for more than a week. You'll see. Kid's soft. He's lazy."

"Sam is many things, none of which are soft or lazy. That you would say this makes me think you do not even know him."

"You need to leave." Mike said. "We all worked with Sam. We all think the world of him. Don't you say another damned word against him."

John laughed, whirling on Mike, but his attention was diverted by Dean, who was once again on his feet and leaning heavily on Lars. He took a step toward him, his hand forming into a fist. "Fine, then. I still have Dean, don't I." His eyes narrowed, "Always defending your brother. Always trying to take his beatings for him. Always raggin' on me about how smart Sam is and how hard he tries. Well you know what, Dean? Try ain't worth shit. It's results that matter, and Sam never did do a thing I said. So you want to take his beating for him again? That's fine by me." He raised the belt.

"Dad! Don't!" Dean gasped, flinching back just as Mike stepped in front of him.

But it was all unnecessary when Bobby's arm snaked around John from behind and trapped him in a choke hold. John fought, but in his drunken state, he was no match for Bobby. The irate man slowly slipped toward unconsciousness as Bobby dragged him toward the door. "Let's you and me go have a little talk out in the hallway, John." He said through gritted teeth. And he dragged the struggling man outside, Whitey and Rog stepping outside with them.

All attention in the room turned to Dean. Lars helped him sit back in the chair, as Mike knelt in front of the wheezing boy. "Here, Dean." He said gently. "Let me take a look at your face." He tilted Dean's face gently this way and that. "Gonna have a hell of a shiner. How does your head feel?"

"Not … not so good." Dean breathed. "Hurts …"

"I will call the nurse." JayJay said, hitting his call button. He exchanged a long, disgusted look with his deck boss, both men shaking their heads at the treatment Sam and Dean were obviously used to.

"I'll get security." Lars volunteered. "Make sure that poor excuse for a human being doesn't get back in here." He slipped out the door.

Dean was just about to thank him, but then the room went black and the floor came rushing up to meet him.


	29. Sam Wakes Up

Dean felt rough, but there was nothing short of a second surgery that was going to keep him from his brother's bedside as the younger boy came to. And when Sam's eyes finally opened, they found Dean and Bobby anxiously looking back.

Sam snorted, "Who died?" He grinned briefly, then winced.

"Well, you almost, you little bitch." Dean grinned back. "You are in so much trouble, kid."

Sam stared, "What happened to your eye? Is that from the surgery?"

Dean paused, then nodded.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is Dad pissed?"

"Forget about Dad. You got me to worry about." Dean assured him. "And as soon as you're all better, I am so kickin' your ass, Sam."

"Yeah? Last I remember, you were too weak to do anything but hug a toilet." Sam kidded.

"Yeah? Well, I'm better now, thanks to you. And also thanks to you - I think I got gray hair now. A crab boat, Sam? Really?"

Sam was suddenly silent. He turned wide eyes on Dean. "The boat. The crew. Dean, what …?"

Dean shook his head, "Shhh, Sammy. It's fine. They're all fine. The boat and everyone on board made it."

"Hell, even the crabs made it to the docks alive." Bobby added.

But Sam looked unconvinced, "You're not just trying to make me feel better, right?"

"If I'm lying, I'm dying, Sammy. On my honor, everyone is fine."

Sam grinned at that. "You have no honor, Dean."

"On Bobby's honor …"

Sam laughed.

He actually laughed.

And Dean's heart near exploded. He was so sure he'd never hear that sound again. Suddenly, it was all he could do to just hold onto his brother's hand and not cry.

Sam noticed. He gave Dean's hand a little squeeze and turned to Bobby. "Thanks for coming, Bobby. I was so scared. I couldn't get Dad or Jonesy, and they couldn't wake Dean." He took a trembling breath. "That was the worst part - even worse than being in the water at the end - trying to get Dean the help he needed. That woman … she was horrible." He shivered.

"Yeah? Well, now she's unemployed." Bobby winked.

Sam's mouth dropped open. "They fired her?"

"Sure did."

"Why?"

"When they thought you … when they thought the boat had gone down … the story got out about why you signed on in the first place. People were outraged."

Sam thought about that. Normally, he'd feel bad that he was instrumental in having someone fired. But then he remembered her threatening to wake Dean and force him onto a plane in terrible pain. Then he didn't feel so bad anymore.

His eyes teared as he gazed up at Bobby. "She was gonna make them wake him up. The doctor said the pain would be terrible, and she didn't care. She didn't care that he could die either…" Sam was all high-pitched and whiny and couldn't seem to control it. His voice hitched, and a tear made its way down one cheek.

Dean chimed in, rubbing his hand, "Shhh. Sammy. It's okay."

But Sam was getting himself all worked up, remembering. "She said you … you wouldn't die right away, that you could still get on a plane and go back. I begged her, Dean! I did. I would have done anything, but she wouldn't give an inch! And I couldn't get Dad. I tried over and over …"

"Calm it down, Samantha, or you're gonna have security in here runnin' us out." Dean joked, trying to redirect his brother's train of thought.

Sam took a steadying breath and nodded. "Okay." he said shakily. "I … I just … I had to move fast, you know? And there was the help-wanted sign in the coffeehouse. I just … I didn't think. I just knew you needed help, and I was the only one who could get it." He turned puppy eyes on his brother. "Don't be mad, Dean, please?"

Damn those eyes. Dean had to look away. "I'm not mad, Sammy. I promise. I mean, how could I be? You saved my life and damn near lost your own in the process."

Sam smiled, too overcome to speak.

"So you up for more company?" Bobby asked him.

Sam looked surprised, "Who?"

Bobby winked and stepped outside the door. He gestured to someone standing in the hallway.

And when the crew came filtering in, all of them but JayJay, Sam's grin would have lit up a football field. But once everyone was inside and still no skipper, Sam's grin turned to a look of fear.

"JayJay?" He gazed up at Mike, suddenly scared, "Did he …?"

But Mike just ruffled Sam's hair. "Skip's fine, Sammy. He's just got a room of his own here. Took a metal pole through his ribs. But he's awake and dealing out platitudes just like always." The older man winked.

Sam grinned. "Sounds like him."

Mike had a little fun at JayJay's expense, imitating his calm voice. "The sea chose to put a pole through my body, but I feel it is for the best. Perhaps I needed impaling."

Sam couldn't help himself. He snorted, feeling bad for it afterward.

"That was awful."

Mike grinned, "I know. I'm going straight to hell."

Lars elbowed him. "Like you ain't already been there."

Rog chimed in, 'Ain't that the truth. I think we've all been there. This last time out … well."

"So, it's not always that intense?" Sam asked mischievously.

Whitey chuckled, "Well maybe not quite that intense, anyway."

"This was one for the record books, Sammy." Mike agreed, suddenly sobering. "We thought we'd lost you. Don't know how you washed up on that beach and survived. We all knew you were one tough cookie. We just didn't know you were immortal."

Sam just shook his head, lying, "I don't remember much after making the mayday call - just waking up, and Dean was jogging up the beach with me." He looked over at his big brother, and everyone in the room could see the stars shining in his eyes. He frowned suddenly. "How are you, by the way? You okay?"

"I'm right as rain, Sammy. You know me - I ain't dying anytime soon."

Sam smiled, "Good." Then he got serious again. "So … has Dad shown up yet? I mean, you think he's okay?"

The room went silent as everyone relived the memories of just a few hours ago. Finally, Dean spoke. "He stopped in to see how you were doing."

Sam's eyes went watery. "But he didn't stay?"

Dean shook his head, "Well, you know Dad, Sam."

"You think … he's mad, isn't he?" Sam raised a hand to his cheek absently, as though feeling a blow there. "I guess I'm in for it, hunh?" He sighed, his defenses too down to think about the other people in the room.

Mike's eyes went dark as he imagined that drunk bastard laying hands on the frail-looking kid in the bed. It took everything he had to remain silent.

"Don't you even worry about Dad, Sammy. Bobby had a talk with him. He won't be back for awhile. And you're not in for anything. I promise. He'll have to go through me first."

Sam looked unconvinced, but he pasted on a brave smile. "Thanks."

Dean winked. "Gotta look out for my little bro. Otherwise, who's gonna be there to save me from my next brain tumor?"

Sam's eyes widened and his face went pale. "You better not!"

Dean chuckled. "I'm kidding, Sam. They got it all out. No cancer. I'm good."

"Now you need to work on getting out of that bed, cause I've had my share of hospitals, kid." Bobby told Sam gruffly. "Between the two of you, I've aged at least 10 years this week."


	30. Bait

John did the math, and it didn't add up. Sam surviving all those days in an arctic sea? Three days on a frozen beach with no help of any kind?

Sam knew something he wasn't telling - something that could maybe help him defeat the sea witch who had killed his friend. And if he ever found out that his hunter son - the boy he'd raised and trained since infancy - had experienced an opportunity to kill a monster without acting on it, well, he'd teach him a lesson he'd not soon forget.

John sat alone in his cold motel room in the dark, drinking whiskey straight from the bottle and seething.

###

"So then Mike, he explained the broken arm like this to anyone who would ask - 'I had a run in with a really big fish.' What he failed to mention was that the fish was pan-fried on a plate and that he'd gotten the broken arm when he winked at the waitress with the really big, angry husband." JayJay finished.

Sam laughed so hard he thought he'd pass out. The way JayJay had of telling sea stories was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Even Mike was doubled over by this time, his eyes tearing from laughing so hard.

To his left, Sam heard Dean snort like a horse and that just made him lose it all together. He laughed so hard it turned into a coughing session that left him helpless and gasping for air. Dean was up and beside him in an instant, pushing him forward and rubbing his back gently until he calmed. And while he rubbed Sam's back and massaged the younger boy's shoulders, he told a story of his own.

"Hey Sammy, remember that time Bobby needed the radiator cap off that old Ford that sat out back of the salvage yard?" Sam's eyes grew huge and he nodded, knowing what was coming.

"So Bobby, he yells at me to stop messing around in the high weeds cause I'd end up stepping on a snake and getting bit, and I looked up to argue the point just in time to see the hood propped up on the old truck and Bobby dancing all around like he was on fire. There was so many bees swarming around him, he was blurred, which was good, because by the time he finally made the front door, he was naked as the day he was born. I can't even talk about the places I picked stingers out of that night." Dean looked suitably horrified. "I think I'm still traumatized." As the laughter echoed around him, Dean added. "To this day, I see a bee's nest and go cold inside."

"Very funny." Bobby harrumphed, but Dean could tell he wasn't really mad. "Maybe we should talk about that time you came down with ghost fever."

Sam bounced in the bed. "The cat! Tell them about the cat in the locker!"

But Dean acted innocent. "What cat in what locker, Sammy? I think the cold messed with your brain, geek boy."

But Sam wouldn't be stopped. "See, ghost fever makes you scared of everything. So Dean, he wouldn't go into the motel because our room was on the second floor. And …"

And while Sam told his edited version of a hunter's story, Dean checked his watch and then reached for Sam's spirometer. By the time Sam reached the end where Dean had screamed like a little girl at the cat inside the locker, everyone was doubled over again. He reached out and touched his brother's shoulder, handing him the machine. Sam nodded, and leaned back into Dean's chest while the older boy counted quietly so he would know how long to blow.

JayJay watched the interaction with a sense of calm. However abusive the father was, it was obvious that Sam had someone who looked out for him, and the thought made the skipper glad. He turned his attention then to Mike, who had just begun regaling everyone with the story of the time JayJay had gotten distracted by a girl in a kayak and run the boat aground on the rocks off Adak Island.

"It is all lies." JayJay interrupted, chuckling.

###

"I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard." Sam said later when they were alone, his face a lovely, healthy shade of pink.

And Dean was glad. Sam looked happy, healthy and wise. It was such a change from just a few days ago when he'd found him on the beach, gray and lifeless. And an even bigger change from a week ago when Dean and Bobby had thought he was gone from their lives forever. Dean couldn't even think about that time now, the pain was still too raw. He could only gaze at his little brother with his flushed face and sweaty hair and smile.

Damn, this kid.

Dean felt his heart give a little flip-flop every time he looked over and realized that Sam was real, that he'd come so close to losing him, and now he had him again - had him back whole and happy, even.

Dean never got this lucky.

Not ever.

"Take a break, son." Bobby said softly, suddenly beside him. "We still got that motel room, and you ain't left here since they brought Sam in. I'll hang out here today. You go back and get some sleep."

But Dean shook his head. "I'll sleep when I'm dead, Bobby. I ain't leaving Sam."

But Sam heard him. "Please Dean? You just had surgery. I'll feel better if I know you're getting rest too."

"No way, Sam. I'm not leaving, so just forget about it."

"Please? For me?" Sam turned on the eyes. "If you get sick again, Dean, I just … I don't know what I'll do." his voice hitched. "Please? You have to take care of yourself too. I'm fine now. They'll probably release me tomorrow. Just this last day? Go back and get a good nap, okay?"

"Sam …"

"Please?"

Dean looked to Bobby for help. "You heard him." The older man shrugged, grinning.

Dean sighed. "Just gang up on a guy, why don't you?"

Sam grinned. "See you in a few hours, jerk."

And so Dean left - back to the motel to spend a few hours undisturbed. And two hours later, when Bobby went in search of some lunch, John made his move.

###

"Sam." John jostled the boy's shoulder. "Sammy, wake up."

Sam opened his eyes, confused. "Dad? What … ?"

"Hey Sammy. How you doin', kid?"

Sam struggled to sit up. "I'm okay, Dad. Are you okay? Where've you been?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Sammy. Did you see her?"

"Who?"

"The sea hag. You did. Didn't you? Did she help you?"

And Sam was still loopy from his medication, or he would have thought about his words and to whom he was speaking.

"Yeah. She saved me, Dad. She saved my life twice. She's not a monster. She's not even a hag. She's just a young girl."

John's eyes narrowed. "Sam, I'm gonna tell you something, and then let you decide who is and isn't the monster. My friend, Jonesy - the one who paid for your tickets up here - he's dead."

Sam gasped, "What!"

John nodded. "We were on his boat, docked in the harbor, when she came aboard and tortured him. She took his fingers one by one, Sammy. And his screams, they were horrifying. I couldn't get to him in time. I tried. I swear I did. But even that - that wasn't enough. She had to drag him off the boat after. She killed him, Sam. Killed him plain as day, and I saw it. She is the definition of monster."

Sam sat slack-jawed, disbelieving. "But Dad. Why would she do that? She only goes after fathers who've mistreated their daughters. Did … did Jonesy? I mean … did he have daughters?"

John's voice cooled. "Are you trying to blame Jonesy for his own death, Sam?"

"No! Sir, no, of course not. I'm just trying to understand why she would hurt him?"

"She didn't hurt him, Sam. She killed him. Big difference there, wouldn't you say? And Jonesy - he made mistakes. We all do. His ex, she'd accused him of some things. That doesn't mean he did them."

Sam's eyes darkened. "He did, Dad. He did those things. That's why she went after him. He hurt them - his girls."

John drew back, his fist clenched. "Watch yourself, boy. That's my friend you're talking trash about."

But Sam was adamant, 'Then maybe you need better friends, Dad! She's not a monster. I'm telling you! She saved my life twice! Why would she do that if she was evil?"

But all John heard was his wayward son challenging him once again. He reached out and fisted Sam's hospital gown in both hands. He yanked the boy forward until they were nose-to-nose and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Now you listen to me, Sam. I'm going to kill that sea bitch, and you're going to help me. Got it? If it's you she's so intent on saving, then that makes you the perfect bait, doesn't it?

Sam struggled, but his father's hands were like iron against his neck. He tried to catch his breath, but it eluded him. "No, Dad! No! I won't do it! I won't help you kill her! She saved me!"

John just smiled. "Oh you will help, son. You'll help because if you don't, Dean will. Dean's 20, Sam - you think she'll come to his aid? If you won't be bait, then your brother is the only other option. Now what do you say?"

Sam's eyes teared at the threat to his brother. "No!" He whispered. "I'm not helping you, and I'm not letting you anywhere near Dean! Bobby will … "

But Sam's voice choked off when John suddenly increased the pressure on his throat. He shook Sam violently, the boy's head snapping back like a flag in a hurricane.

"Enough!"

John jumped at the deadly tone issued from the doorway. He dropped Sam like he was a super-heated pan on a hot stove and took a single step back, breathing heavily. His eyes shot to JayJay and Mike, who both stood just inside the door, horrified at what they'd just witnessed.

"Don't you tell me how to treat my son." He snarled, running a hand through his hair.

"You are drunk. I can smell you from here. That you would come here, in this condition, and treat your son so cruelly is wrong. You should go. Go before we make you go."

John snorted, "You? You're gonna make me? I'd like to see that."

JayJay stepped closer to the bed and studied Sam questioningly. The boy held his hands to his throat but gazed back steadily with teary eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"You are fortunate that your 16-year-old son has more compassion for you than we do. Now go."

John stood his ground for a moment, debating whether to stay or go, but when Dean suddenly strode cheerfully into the room and stopped dead at the drama playing out before him, the older man decided retreat was the better course of action.

"What the hell's going on here?" Dean barked, his eyes traveling over Sam in the bed and seeing his teary eyes, flushed face and the pained way he was holding onto his neck. His eyes snapped back to John. "You hurt him?" he pushed past his father and batted Sam's hands away, eyes widening at the red marks that would eventually become bruises. "You choked him? We just got him back!" Dean looked murderous. He whirled on his father. "What the hell is wrong with you, Dad!"

But John just smiled. He pinned Sam with a stare. "You remember what I told you, Sam. I was deadly serious. Don't think for a minute that I wasn't, you hear me? Choose wisely."

Dean took a step forward. "Don't you dare threaten him!"

John fell back a step, his face tight - expression unreadable. He moved past the two men who stood in the doorway and glanced back once at his youngest. "Remember." He said, and disappeared.


	31. John's Move

Dean studied his brother, worried. Something was up with him. Dean could see the gears turning in the younger boy's head.

"Come clean, Samantha."

Sam started, "Hunh?" He paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Dad said something. I know he did, because you've been stewing on it ever since. Come on. Spill."

From the corner of the room, Bobby looked up, brows furrowed.

Sam paled visibly. He shrugged. "Just the usual stuff. You know … disappointing son, lazy, not a good hunter … The kind of stuff he always says to me when nobody else is around." Sam finished his bite of orange Jello like it was the most natural thing in the world that his father treated him this way.

Dean felt his face twitch. If there was one person anywhere in the world who didn't deserve to ever hear those words, it was his unselfish little brother. Sam had just almost died to save him, to save everyone aboard his boat. And to hear that John had called him selfish and lazy - that just started a slow burn deep inside Dean's gut that could easily build to volcanic proportions under the right conditions.

He swallowed back bile. "Sammy …"

"It's cool, Dean. Let it go. It's not anything we've never heard before, right?"

"That don't make it right, boy." Bobby piped up from the corner.

Sam just shrugged. "It's just Dad. It's who he is. I've always been a disappointment to him. You know that."

Dean stood. "You're not the disappointment, Sam. Dad's the disappointment. Trust me."

Sam flushed pink.

"What?"

The spoon trembled in his hand, "It's just … you know … I wish …"

"What? That your father wasn't a mean, soulless son-of-a-bitch?" Bobby finished.

That made Sam smile. "No, well … yeah. But I just wish that JayJay and Mike … that was humiliating. I wish they hadn't seen it."

Dean sighed. He'd had a feeling it was something like that. He sat down on the edge of his brother's bed and didn't say anything, just tried to offer comfort by his presence. Sam glanced up at him once through hooded eyes and found his brother staring straight back. Their eyes locked for a minute before they both snorted, looking away.

"Well you know, Sammy." Dean chuckled. "If it ain't hella embarrassing, it ain't the Winchester Way."

Sam giggled. "Lucky us."

###

John had his plan. He'd talked with Sam's doctor and knew that his son was being released at noon. That meant they'd go back to that shithole motel that he'd trailed Bobby to yesterday and spend one more night. They'd be on a plane back in the morning.

That meant it had to happen tonight.

He texted Sam's phone, knowing that Dean would be the one to see it.

###

Dean heard Sam's phone beep, and nosy bastard that he was, he scooped it up while Sam was in the bathroom and took a peek at the message.

" _It's you or your brother. Tonight. I hope you made the right choice. Come to the pier alone so we can slay that bitch together. I'm counting on you, Sam. I hope it's you who has the balls to show, instead of trying to offload your responsibilities onto Dean. Don't let me down. Again."_

And that's when the fire that burned low and smoldering down low in his gut whooshed to life with a muffled bang.

Bait.

He wanted to use Sam as fucking bait.

Dean erased the message and placed the phone carefully back where he'd found it.

Sam need never know.

Dean and Bobby would be at the pier tonight though.

And the then shit would fly.

John wanted bait? Fine.

He just hoped the bastard was prepared for what happened when you tried to bait a fish hook with a pair of pissed-off copperheads.


	32. Goodbyes

"We come to say goodbye, slatsiin." JayJay smiled at Sam in his hospital bed. "It is late in the season. Repairs are done, and Mike and I are sailing _The Girl_ back down to Seattle. We will try again next year."

Sam's eyes widened, "But … I promised you four weeks … I didn't … didn't fulfill my end of the contract!" The boy didn't want to admit it, but he really wanted that $6,000. He still had Dean's hospital payment to make. And then there was his own. He shuddered just thinking about it.

"Do not worry, young Sam. You pulled more than your weight on my boat. I was privileged to have you aboard. If you ever decide to return to the sea, Sam Hetfield, you have a standing assignment aboard _Brown-Eyed Girl_." JayJay handed him an envelope. "The terms of our agreement changed a bit, I'm afraid."

Sam took the envelope, swallowing hard. He knew some of the crab couldn't have made it alive. He also knew they wouldn't get paid for any that died. He smiled through his disappointment and nodded. He placed the envelope on his tray table.

"Thank you. I Iearned a lot. Thanks for … you know … for giving me a chance."

Mike smiled. "You're not going to open it?"

Sam shrugged. "It's okay. I know the crab … most of them were out too long, right?"

"You would think so." JayJay grinned. "But maybe you should open it anyway?"

Sam picked up on the excitement and found himself grinning before he even looked at the amount on the check. When he finally noticed the big 23, followed by three zeros, he couldn't speak. His mouth fell open and his eyes teared instantly. He tried to give it back.

"No! JayJay. I … no … I can't! I was only out for two weeks!"

JayJay pushed the check back at him. "It is yours, slatsiin. You earned it. The goddess, she smiled kindly upon _Brown-Eyed Girl_ this season. I think it may have been your presence."

"Well, you know, until the whole super-storm thing." Mike grinned.

JayJay shrugged. "Until that." He grinned. "You wield a mean hairbrush, my friend."

Sam gazed back at JayJay, surprised. He hadn't realized anyone had seen him with the hairbrush. Dean and Bobby were the only ones he'd expected to understand.

"The goddess, she calmed right after you went over the side. It doesn't take a man of science to figure out what happened." JayJay explained. "I believe in the old stories, Sam. Just as you do."

Mike snorted and rolled his eyes. "Let's just hope this goddess lets us get back to Seattle without another dunking."

Sam blinked then, his tears threatening to spill over. He would miss these guys. He slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe. Wrapping it around himself snugly, he hugged them both. "Thank you." was all he could manage.

"Thank you, Sammy. It was fun." Mike offered, swiping at his own eyes.

But JayJay stepped back after hugging Sam and turned serious. "Sam, your father worries me. Will you be safe?"

Sam nodded, blowing his nose. "Dad's dad. He's always been that way. I don't think he's gonna change anytime soon."

JayJay nodded, "Dean will stay with you?"

"Yeah. Always." Sam couldn't help the smile that appeared at the mention of his big brother.

"Well, you take care, okay?" Mike asked, serious. "You need anything, you have my cell number. Call me. Anytime. If I can't get there. I can send help."

Sam nodded. "I will. But I'll be fine. Honest. Once Dad sobers up … he'll be fine."

JayJay studied him. "You have a hard row to hoe, young Sam. But that which doesn't kill us …"

Sam grinned, "Right." He changed the subject. "Will you pull up anchor tonight?"

"Early tomorrow morning, weather permitting." JayJay offered.

Sam shook each of their hands in turn. "Fair winds." He wished them.

Mike grinned, "You too, Sammy. Stay in touch, okay?"

Sam nodded as the two men slipped out the door. They met Dean coming in, and handshakes were exchanged all around.

"Take care of young Sam." JayJay instructed. "He's a good man to have around."

"That's my job." Dean smiled, not taking offense. "And you're right. He is."

Dean turned toward Sam, grinning, as they strode away. "Nice guys. I like 'em."

But Sam just stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What?"

He held up the check.

"Got paid, hunh? Was it as much as you hoped?"

"Sam?"

Dean glanced at the number, and his eyes went wide. "Holy shit!"

Sam giggled then, and he couldn't help himself; he bounced up and down like he was six instead of sixteen. "I've never seen this much money Dean!"

And Dean stared at his little brother, all happy and flushed with excitement, and all but laughed out loud like a little kid himself.

This.

This is what Dean lived for.

Moments like this.

To think he'd almost lost them for forever.

Without a second thought, he reached over and pulled Sam close. He hugged him like he never wanted to let him go. "That's real good, Sammy. You surely earned it, kid."

And after a stunned moment, Sam hugged him back.


	33. Taken in the Night

John shook his head as he watched Dean and Bobby toss a bag of weapons into Bobby's rental and drive off toward the docks.

Apparently, none of the lessons he'd tried so hard to drill into his son's hard head had taught him the dangers of predictability.

Sam was alone.

Just as John had known he would be.

He smiled.

Two minutes later, he was inside the room and crossing the salt line.

At least they'd done that correctly.

Sam was in the shower, the bathroom light on and door slightly ajar. John could hear the water running.

Probably they'd told him they were hitting the local bar. He snorted.

Too easy.

He fingered the cuffs in his pocket and wondered briefly if it should be this easy - using his youngest this way.

The water in the harbor was cold. Arctic. A man would die within minutes of going in.

Add in being cuffed, and well …

John knew he was a bastard. But that bitch had to die tonight, and Sam was the only way he had to lure her in.

It would be fine. He'd toss Sam in the harbor. He'd flounder. And she'd show her ugly face.

Then John would use the spear gun to send her straight to hell. One spear tipped in the blood of a raven would do it. Then he'd use the rope to yank Sammy back up and they'd be on their way.

Dean would be pissed when he heard the story. But by then, the sea bitch would be long dead and John long gone. He was smart enough to know that after tonight, he'd no longer be welcome near either of his boys.

But it was the hunt.

Saving people. Hunting things. That's all he had really. All he'd ever had since Mary had … well …

It had to be done. Sammy would understand one day. One day he'd have a wife that he loved more than life itself. And then he'd know. He'd get it.

Sammy would forgive him.

Dean …

No, he'd have to watch his back after tonight because Dean would never forgive him. Not for this.

He heard the water shut off and positioned himself by the door.

And when Sam stepped across the threshold, wrapped only in a damp towel, he never knew what hit him.

###

"Something's up, Bobby. Dad should have been here by now."

Dean could no longer feel his hands. The winds whipping across the docks this night was the coldest cold that Dean had ever felt. It was like being flayed. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like to be in the water on a night like this. How Sam had survived days of this was beyond him.

Dean was pretty sure he'd be dead in under 5 minutes if he fell in. Cold this cold - it just ripped the breath right out of you.

Bobby was worried too. John was punctual like clockwork. Of course, he hadn't given a specific time, but both he and Dean had assumed that midnight was go hour.

So where the hell was John?

He had that bad feeling again. Bobby shivered.

###

Aboard _Brown-Eyed Girl_ , JayJay frowned. He'd motored up to the dock and tied up late next to the only other vessel, _Jonesy's Wager_. But now he could see that the knots holding the bigger boat were slipping and as the ropes lengthened, the boat drifted ever closer to JayJay's _Girl_.

"A fool should not be permitted to pilot such a boat." He remarked to Mike. "If he does not tighten the ropes, we will have to."

Mike scowled. He didn't like the idea of messing around another skipper's vessel, but then he didn't like the idea of getting broadsided by a bigger boat, either. He nodded. His eyes on the alert for the return of whoever was piloting _Jonesy's Wager._

 _###_

John waited.

It was 3 am before Dean and Bobby returned to the motel. The moment he saw them pull up, he pulled quietly away from the curb and drove off toward the docks, his son unconscious on the floor beside him.

###

Bobby knew.

The moment they unlocked the door and swept the door open on a darkened room, he knew.

Sam was gone.

John had never been at the pier. The text message was a decoy.

"He knew." Dean whispered. "He knew I'd be the one who saw the text." He turned wide, terrified eyes on Bobby. "He has Sammy. Bobby! He wanted bait …!" Dean couldn't help it, he sobbed.

"Balls!" The old hunter turned on his heel and high-tailed it back to the car, Dean right behind him.

He was so going to kick John Winchester's worthless ass if anything else happened to either of his boys.


	34. Not on My Watch, Sammy

"Dad! What …" Sam groaned as John tugged him into the seat from the front wheel well. "What's … my head. It hurts."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. It'll be over soon. Don't worry, son. I won't let anything happen to you." He tossed clothes at him, and exited the truck to give the boy privacy. "Here. Get dressed."

Sam's eyes widened as he suddenly realized he was still only wearing a towel. "What the hell, Dad!" He blushed furiously as he yanked the boxers, jeans and flannel on as quickly as he could. He stepped out of the passenger side, and John was suddenly right beside him. "Come with me, Sam."

But Sam balked. "What! No! Where's Dean? Dad, what's going on?"

John's eyes flared. "It's just you and me, Sam. Just like I said. Now we have a job to do. The question is, will you do it?"

Sam suddenly understood. He felt sick. "No." He whispered. "I'm not going to play bait so you can get some weird sense of vindication."

John stared at his son for a moment. "So you won't do it?"

"No! Now take me back to the motel!"

John nodded. "Sure, son. I'll take you back."

Sam let out a relieved breath. He'd been certain Dad was ready to just toss him off the end of the pier. He climbed back into the truck and pulled his seatbelt around, clicking it into place, looking over when John slid in beside him with a thermos.

"Here." John offered, looking guilty. "It's cold out here tonight. Drink this. It will warm you up."

"What is it?" Sam wrinkled his nose and asked suspiciously, knowing his father's penchant for whiskey.

John snorted. "It's just coffee, Sam. Hot coffee. Go on, it will warm you up."

Sam opened the thermos and sniffed. Then he smiled and took a sip. It was hot and sweet and smooth, just the way he liked it. He'd drunk nearly half the container before he realized how odd that was - Dad took his coffee strong and black - just like Dean. Why would he have …

Sam felt dizzy.

His vision blurred.

He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, realizing they were still parked and not heading back to the motel.

"Daaad …" He slurred. "Nooo."

John stared at his son. The guilt was back and magnified at seeing his youngest son all doped up, but it was a means to an end that had to happen.

Maybe it was better this way. He stepped out of the truck for a second time and moved to the passenger side. Reaching in, he unhooked Sam's belt and brought the boy's long legs around. He helped him stand.

"You okay there, Sammy?" He asked, stepping back to see whether Sam could stand. He was pleased to see the boy was wobbly but vertical, bare feet and all. He looked up and froze.

Damn. The look on his son's face.

Those damned eyes that hid nothing.

John swallowed hard and tugged Sam forward by the hands. "You'll understand one day, Sammy. You will. I promise."

Sam was terrified. He could feel and see everything that was happening to him, but he was helpless to stop it. He could only move forward when John tugged him and stop when he stopped him. He couldn't even fall down. He knew because he'd tried. He tried to plead with his father.

"Da ...d. Puh … pl … ease. Don't."

"Shhh, Sammy. It's going to be fine."

Sam was crying as his father led him quietly along the dock. He knew this was going to end badly. "Da … Dad! Don't, plea … lease."

"Man up, Sam. This won't take long."

"Wha …"

John stopped and took pity on the boy he'd raised for sixteen years. "Sammy, look." He turned the boy to face him and spoke without meeting his eyes. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm telling you this so you can prepare yourself. It won't be that bad, I promise. You won't be in the water any more than a minute or two and then I'll pull you right back out, okay? There's no reason to be afraid. You're my son, Sam. I won't let anything happen to you."

Sam couldn't remember ever being this scared in his life. His father was going to push him in. He was going to sacrifice him to satisfy some imagined debt to one of his pedophile friends. "No! Dad! No!" His voice was gaining volume, and Sam saw John smile.

"Go ahead and yell, Sam. No one's out here to hear you - well, except the sea hag, that is." He tugged Sam's arm again.

Up ahead, Sam could see the end of the dock approaching. He tried to drag his feet, pull away, fall down - anything he could do to slow the approach of that deep, dark drop into frigid waters. He wouldn't survive it this time, he knew. He was too drugged, too out of it. If Dad pushed him over. He was dead. He dragged in a ragged sob.

"Hold up." John instructed, digging in his duffle. To Sam's horror, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a long coil of rope. He tried to take a step back. "No!"

"Shh. Hush, boy. Stop being so dramatic." John sighed as he tugged Sam's hands behind him and slipped the icy steel cuffs over his son's already frozen wrists. He clicked them into place, ignoring the boy's shudder. Then he threaded the rope through Sam's belt loops and tied it off at the middle of his back like a leash.

He stepped back to study his handiwork and nodded. It would do. He spun Sam back around and gave him a small shove forward. "Walk, boy."

But Sam wouldn't. He'd regained enough motor function to resist at least that much.

"Dammit, Sam! I said move!" John barked, stepping in front of the boy and pulling roughly on his arm.

Sam moved then. He had no choice.

###

Mike yawned, then jerked awake with a start. Dammit. He'd fallen asleep. The first thing he did was hustle up on deck to check the position of _Jonesy's Wager_. He was relieved to see it seemed to have stopped its sideways creep. He sighed and scratched and was about to retire back below deck when he heard a shout.

He listened again, straining to see out into the darkness.

Nothing.

He turned.

"Dad! No!"

Mike stiffened. That voice. He was sure he knew it. He stuck his head inside the cabin.

"Skip! Wake up!"

JayJay was instantly alert. He stepped out into the hallway. "What is it?"

"Trouble, I think."

JayJay nodded. "Wait for me. Do not try to handle it alone."

Mike heard footsteps. It sounded like two people - one stepping along normally, the other shuffling awkwardly. He ducked back inside, dousing his flashlight, and trained his eyes on the dock.

As he watched, two figures came closer - a man and a boy - the man was dragging the kid by an arm and it looked as though the boy had his hands tied behind him. The kid was barefoot without even a jacket, and it sounded like he was crying quietly. As they passed by, Mike saw the kid look up at the boat in recognition and draw in a ragged breath.

Sammy.

It looked as though he was about to shout for help when the man's hand closed over his mouth and Mike heard a loudly whispered "Fuck!".

Without another thought, Mike was on deck and clamboring down onto the dock.

"Sammy!"

###

Everything happened so fast after that.

Sam saw Mike leap onto the dock, looking like he was ready to kill or be killed. From the direction of the parking lot, he heard Dean's voice call his name, and then all he knew was cold and blackness and terror like he'd never before experienced.

The water was so cold, it took his breath instantly. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think. He couldn't move his hands, and he was sinking.

He was sinking so fast.

He was going to die. He'd gone in unprepared, not even a single deep breath to get him ahead of the game. He'd gone in mid-shout. And he was already out of time when he heard first one splash and then another.

But he was on the bottom now, and too far down for anyone to reach him in time.

He felt an intense wave of sadness engulf him. This was going to be so hard on Dean.

Then strong hands were on him, and they were pulling toward the surface. Midway up, they were joined by a second pair of hands.

Seconds later, Dean and JayJay popped up from the icy depths, holding Sam between them. They held him in strong arms and tossed the rope that encircled him skyward. Using the rope, Mike pulled them up, one-by-one, bringing JayJay up last.

And all the three men could do was lie on the dock like fresh-caught fish and gasp for the breath needed to fill their frozen lungs.

But John could still move. Dragging himself to his feet from the spot where someone - probably Mike or Bobby - had dropped him, he ran for the small outboard that bobbed, ready and waiting, in the far shadows of _Jonesy's Wager_. Sam heard the sputter of the engine as it roared to life, and he tried to shout out a warning. But he was too late.

John was away from the dock and heading out into open water before anyone could move. Sam saw him look back once, his face expressionless, as he headed out to sea.

Sam's eyes filled with tears then. He would have died here along these stark, rocky banks. He'd have died, and no one would have ever known what happened to him, his only memorial a cold watery grave that no one ever came to visit.

His own father ...

He sobbed.

But then he felt a hand on him, and he looked over. Dean lay there, not two feet away, and he was reading Sam's mind like he had since before Sam could remember. The older boy smiled. "Not on my watch, Sammy." He coughed out, one trembling hand outstretched to comfort his brother anywhere he could reach him. And Sam smiled back through tears of betrayal and caught Dean's hand in his own. The strength he found there - life-saving.

Bobby knelt next to them, placing his jacket over both of his frozen boys, when movement out in the water caught his eye.

She was there. Only Bobby saw her surface next to the dock, her long, dark hair swirling around her like a living thing. She hovered there, watching as John slipped away in Jonesy's boat. She locked eyes with Bobby for only for a moment, nodding, before turning and trailing John out into open water.

Bobby let his eyes drift upward then to the breaking of a blood-red dawn on the horizon. It was going to be another stormy day at sea.

But for him and his boys, the long trick was finally over.

\- END -

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to every one who followed along on this latest adventure. Your feedback, your reviews, your encourage make all the hard work worthwhile. Beyond research, I have no real knowledge of Alaskan crab fishing, how the Coast Guard works or how a young Navajo skipper might actually speak, and at no time throughout this whole story did anyone point that out to me :) You guys rock._


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